


(I've Got A) Ways to Go

by premiere



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Deaths, cai xukun is perfect (but also oblivious), featuring the most painful one-sided crush ever, get ready for the SLOWEST of all slow burns. it's going to be painful, very loosely based on Sabrina which made me cry in eighth grade, wang ziyi is the Most Whipped, zhu zhengting is an oblivious idiot, zzt is ziyi's Gay Awakening and if that doesn't convince you then i don't know what will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/premiere/pseuds/premiere
Summary: Zhengting has been in love with Xukun his whole life. Ziyiknowsthis, okay?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i basically hand-waved them all to be the same age  
> this was only supposed to be like 1k of exposition and backstory ha ha  
> title from grouplove
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/ziyiglows)

If it weren’t for Cai Xukun, Ziyi wouldn’t be friends with someone like Zhu Zhengting. They’re too different – Ziyi is reserved where Zhengting wears his heart on his sleeve; Ziyi is steady while Zhengting’s emotions change by the minute. Ziyi lies awake and thinks about it sometimes, when his whole body thrums with some sort of inexplicable energy even though his muscles are exhausted. Thinks about the little threads that connect him to everyone else in his life. He picks through different relationships, asking himself, _Why them?_ Most of it is due to chance meetings, mutual acquaintances, that sort of thing. But it bothers him that he can’t objectively explain how these things develop. There’s no formula to follow. Ziyi likes to understand things, he likes order in his life, and Zhengting doesn’t provide either.

Xukun, though. Him and Xukun is only of the only bonds that he feels like he fully understands. It’s a part of his core, so intertwined with himself that he couldn’t separate himself and Xukun even if he wanted to. They met when Ziyi’s parents moved houses right before fifth grade. At the time, Ziyi was still a snot-nosed kid in his brother’s hand-me-downs. He had cried for a week when his parents told him they were moving – not because he had any best friends to leave behind, but because the idea of change terrified him. He even goes so far as to hide in the attic on move-out day, but his dad’s strong arms gently carry him out of the dusty room and strap him into the van.

They move into their new house on a scorching June day, and Xukun’s family shows up at their doorstep an hour later with a plate of brownies. Ziyi’s mom takes one look at Xukun and squeals delightedly. She practically shoves Ziyi in front of the door, happily proclaiming that he was just Xukun’s age. Ziyi just determinedly stares at the perfect bow of Xukun’s shoelace, too shy and embarrassed to make eye contact until Xukun compliments his Superman t-shirt. Ziyi finally looks up at him. He’s a little shorter than Ziyi, but not by much.

“You wanna come over and look at my action figures? I got Cyborg and Green Lantern for my birthday last week.” Xukun flashes him a grin. Ziyi notices that he’s missing his two front teeth and feels a bit less intimidated.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, forcing himself to be brave, and Xukun grabs his hand.

And that was that. For the rest of that summer, Ziyi spends nearly every day with Xukun. They play Zelda on Ziyi’s console and shoot basketball hoops in Xukun’s garage. He feels like he’s walking on air. He has a real friend now – one that’s _all for himself_. Xukun is funny and smart and asks Ziyi a lot of questions because he cares about his opinions. They tell each other about their life goals – Xukun wants to be a pirate or an NBA player. Ziyi says he wants to be a doctor (his brother told him doctors make lots of money, once, and his brother knows everything). What he doesn’t say is that he thinks he’ll follow Xukun anywhere. Xukun is resourceful and charming – adults and kids alike flock to him instantly, while Ziyi is more comfortable just standing beside him. But he loves it. It’s a kind of true bond, one of those soul-deep relationships that you’re lucky to find once in your life. They just _get_ each other, you know?

A week before school starts, Ziyi and Xukun are sprawled upside-down on the living room couch, heads dangling off the edge as they watch the ceiling fan spin listlessly. Ziyi is thinking about running over to his place to grab some lemonade, _anything_ to ward off the unrelenting heat, when someone knocks at the door.

Xukun springs up, immediately full of energy. “I got it!” He yells and runs over to open the door. When he sees who’s on the other side, his face lights up in recognition. “Oh, you’re back!” He says.

“Hi, Kun,” an unfamiliar, reedy voice replies from behind the door. “We just got back, yeah!”

“Who is it?” Ziyi calls as he gets up, feeling a bit thrown off. He didn’t know Xukun was expecting anyone.

Behind the door is another boy who looks about their age. He’s extremely pale, Ziyi notices. Maybe even more pale than Xukun, which he didn’t think was possible. He’s also very short and slim, a tiny frame that is dwarfed in the doorframe. His eyes are huge – much too big for his face. And all of their intensity is focused on Xukun.

“I’ll let Mom know,” Xukun says. “She’ll be glad you guys are here again.”

“Cool,” the boy says happily, eyes curving into crescents. “I missed you!” Ziyi frowns at how open and unconcerned the declaration is. Tossed in the open like it's not something precious.

“Aww, Zhengzheng, that’s sweet,” Xukun says, and ruffles the boy’s hair. His eyes, somehow, bug out even further, and he looks like he might pass out.

Ziyi clears his throat. “Hi,” he says, stepping out next to Xukun. He may not be able to charm people like Xukun, but his parents didn’t teach him manners for nothing. “I’m Wang Ziyi.”

The boy’s mouth widens into an “o” as he takes in Ziyi, and then he starts talking about a hundred words per minute. “Oh, hi! I’m Zhu Zhengting” He says. “I haven’t seen you around before! Are you new? Did you move here? One time my parents thought we were gonna move but then my dad found another job and we didn’t have to. Which is good because I hate moving and I would miss Kun a lot! We just came back from France – we spent allllllll summer there. I ate lots of grapes and bread and cheese and now I have a s’phisticated palette, see?” Zhengting sticks out his tongue and squeezes his eyes shut, hard.

Ziyi looks at his tongue closely. It’s bright blue, but it doesn’t seem too sophisticated outside of that. “Cool,” he says, still trying to process everything Zhengting said. “Yeah, I moved here about two months ago.”

“Zhengzheng,” Xukun laughs. “Your tongue is all blue.”

“Oh yeah!” Zhengting brightens. “I brought back these candies from France! You suck on ‘em until they dissolve. Here, I got you a bunch!” He pulls a fistful of bright blue candies out of his pocket and gives them to Xukun.

“Thanks,” Xukun grins. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Zhengting looks elated. “Yes!” He cries. “I’ll see you soon! Real soon, Kun! I can bring you more candies, too.”

Xukun is still laughing when he closes the door.

“He seems…nice,” Ziyi ventures, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah, Zhengzheng can be a bit much sometimes,” Xukun says fondly. And that’s another thing that Ziyi loves about Xukun – he always understands what Ziyi means. “But he’s really sweet and nice. His parents have worked with mine since forevvvveeerrr so we’ve known each other since we were in diapers.”

Ziyi frowns at the stab of jealousy that he suddenly feels. He thought…he thought him and Xukun were something special, shared something deep, but maybe this Zhengting kid was filling that role all along. Maybe Ziyi, who’s only been here since June, can never compete with Zhengting in Xukun’s life.

“Hey, don’t look sad, Ziyi,” Xukun declares, hooking both of his thumbs on the corners of Ziyi’s mouth and tugging them up. Ziyi can’t help but laugh at that, and he feels a million pounds lighter when Xukun says, “You’re my best friend, you know. That’s not gonna change.”

“Oh,” Ziyi says, his voice suddenly giddy. _Best friends_. He hadn’t thought of it before, but that’s what they were, weren’t they? Best friends for life. He give Xukun a quick hug. It’s impulsive and their shoulders crash together kind of painfully, but it makes Xukun laugh and hug him back tightly. “Let’s go try those candies now.”

-

Zhengting comes to Xukun’s place every day before school starts. He always shows up with his too-big eyes and his voice calling out, “Hi Kun! I’m here!”

Ziyi doesn’t understand. Surely Zhengting should have his _own_ best friend, right? He didn’t need to be hanging around Ziyi’s all the time.

Xukun is always nice to Zhengting, and usually they all hang out together. Zhengting fills up most of those times with his endless talking. How someone can talk so much and not run out of things to say, Ziyi can never understand. Most of the time he feels overwhelmed by it and fades into the background as Zhengting chatters Xukun’s ear off.

One day, they’re all in Xukun’s bedroom watching _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_. His mom just brought up watermelon and it’s _awesome_ , all thick juicy slices that run down your chin when you bite into them. Ziyi’s slurping the juices from his fingers as Zhengting rattles of reasons why Donatello is actually _the coolest_ ninja turtle (“Purple is a royal color, after all”), when Xukun goes to wash the watermelon juice off of his fingers.

Zhengting’s mouth is still rambling, but his eyes follow Xukun with laser-sharp intensity as Xukun leaves the room, and Ziyi feels a spark of intrigue.

“How long have you and Xukun known each other?” He asks, cutting off Zhengting’s rambling.

Zhengting’s mouth snaps shut, then slowly opens again. “Kun and I have been neighbors all our lives. I’ve known him forever.” He says the last part a bit defensively, jutting his chin out.

“Oh,” Ziyi says, even though he knew that already. He thinks about how he knows near nothing at all about Zhengting, how Xukun never talks about him. “Are you – ?”

“I heard Kun call you his best friend,” Zhengting says, and Ziyi realizes that his voice has gone softer. In (the admittedly short) amount of time that Ziyi has known him, he’s never heard Zhengting sound anything close to soft. Zhengting is always bursting at the seams with emotion. Ziyi has no idea how such a small body can hold Zhengting’s loud voice.

But Zhengting’s voice sounds unbearably tender when he says, “But that doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to marry him one day.”

Ziyi drops his watermelon slice on the floor. Red juice seeps into the carpet, and Zhengting scowls. “You’re gonna have to tell Mrs. Cai about that, you know.” His soft voice is gone, and he’s back to the brash Zhengting that Ziyi knows. Zhengting takes an aggressive bite of his own watermelon, chewing loudly.

“I – ”, Ziyi clears his throat. “You’re gonna _what_?”

“’M gonna be his boyfriend,” Zhengting says between huge chomps of watermelon. He slurps at the rind. “And then we’re gonna get married and he’ll be my _husband_.”

“Isn’t that a little…gay?” Ziyi whispers, cheeks heating up. He’s not too sure what it means, but he heard some kids using the word as an insult at his old school, and he thinks it’s when two guys hold hand and kiss and do weird thing in a closet, somewhere. One time he saw a TV show where someone wrote “GAYBOY” on another boy’s forehead, all big bold strokes in permanent marker. It didn’t seem very nice or fun, so he had changed the channel.

“Yeah!” Zhengting says brightly. “It is and my mom and dad say I can love whoever I want to!”

“Oh,” Ziyi says, mind still spinning in circles. His parents have never talked to him about that stuff before. “That’s…nice, I guess.”

“It is,” Zhengting agrees. “So you can be his best friend if you want, but I was here first. And it’s _me_ he’s going to marry.”

It’s all so bizarre that Ziyi wants to laugh, but he’s a little terrified that Zhengting might actually punch him in the mouth or something. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, before Xukun walks back into the room and flops on the bed.

“Kun!” Zhengting squeals and looks and him with such adoration that Ziyi doesn’t know how he missed it before.

Xukun wiggles his fingers in a lazy wave at Zhengting before he spots the red stain on the carpet. “Aw man,” he whines. “Mom’s gonna kill me!”

-

School starts. It’s fifth grade, which means they’re at the top of the totem pole, and Xukun is obviously the leader. Everyone listens to him, everyone wants to be his friend, and everyone chooses him first for their dodgeball team.

Ziyi is Xukun’s best friend, which means he attracts a lot of attention too. He’s a little awkward, unsure of how to deal with this newfound popularity when he’d never had it before, but Xukun wears it so naturally that Ziyi tries to emulate him.

They’re in the same homeroom, which is better than good. Xukun sits next to him and they pass each other notes and doodles. Xukun, Ziyi quickly learns, is a really good artist. He draws little cartoon caricatures of their classmates that have Ziyi in stitches. Ziyi, on the other hand, doesn’t have that kind of natural gift. His one attempt at drawing Xukun riled him up so much that Xukun snapped his pencil and banned him from attempting portrait drawings ever again.

Zhengting is in the other homeroom, but he walks with them to and from school each day. Xukun doesn’t seem to mind, but he doesn’t seem to really notice him either. Ziyi isn’t sure how you _can’t_ , Zhengting is so loud and unfiltered and…himself. But while Xukun always treats Zhengting with kindness, Ziyi isn’t sure that Xukun knows him at all.

He asks Xukun one day, when they’re hanging from the monkey bars at recess. They’re seeing who can hold on for the longest. Ziyi always wins these stamina competitions, but Xukun is always adamant about having a rematch. “What does Zhengting like to do?”

“Hmm?” Xukun asks, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.

“I mean,” Ziyi amends, unsure of how to word what he’s trying to say. But, like always, Xukun understands what he means.

“I don’t really know,” Xukun says. “Hang around us, I guess.”

 _Hang around you, you mean,_ Ziyi almost says. He wonders if Xukun knows. For all the talking they do with each other, for all the things they share, they never talk about Zhengting. Ziyi wonders if Xukun truly never thinks about him, and that makes him a little sad, for some reason.

“Who are his friends?” Ziyi asks.

“Dunno,” Xukun grunts out. They’re both sweating now from the exertion. Xukun’s arms are shaking a little, Ziyi notes.

“He spends a lot of time around you,” Ziyi tries one more time.

“That’s just Zhengzheng, you know? He’s always been around,” Xukun says, then drops to the ground, panting harshly.

Ziyi lets go too, wincing at the throb in his arms.

“Argh,” Xukun groans from the ground and tugs at Ziyi’s hand, dragging him down next to him. They both lay down and catch their breath, looking at the bright sky. “One day I’m gonna beat you at that, you know.”

“Keep dreaming,” Ziyi retorts, but his mind is still on Zhengting. He doesn’t understand how someone can be so naïve and deluded. Zhengting’s not a bad kid, just a little weird and eccentric and _loud_ , but he could surely have lots of friends if he wanted. At Ziyi’s old school, all the popular kids were loud. Why does he spend all his time hanging around Xukun, dreaming up all these fantasies about…about…things like _love_ and _dating_ when Xukun doesn’t even notice?

“Let’s go back,” he says after a while. “I’ll race you home.”

Nothing excites Xukun like a challenge. He springs up, his teeth flashing white, and then they’re off like rockets. Later, when they’re gulping down water at Ziyi’s house and blinking sweat out of their eyes, Xukun says, “He’s fine. That’s just what Zhengzheng’s like. You don’t have to worry about him.”

-

Xukun gets his first girlfriend in seventh grade. It’s a little late, Ziyi feels. Most of their grade has been in relationships already, short-lived dramas that fizzled out in the cafeteria or gym. Xukun has certainly always had a huge number of admirers, but he never took action to date anyone. Until now.

They talked about it a bit. Actually, a lot. _Girls_. It seems to be the only thing any guy in middle school ever talks about. They talk about what makes girls attractive and how to talk to them and what kissing one might feel like. Ziyi had his first kiss in third grade, a hasty dare with a girl who’s name he doesn’t even remember. He’s surprised to learn that Xukun’s never kissed anyone at all.

“Just wasn’t interested,” Xukun shrugs.

“But it was like a right of passage,” Ziyi insists. “Playground marriages and shit.”

Xukun winks. “I’m not that easy, Ziyi.”

Ziyi laughs. He’s sore and tired from running drills at basketball practice, but it feels so good just talking about nothing with his best friend. “What are you implying about me, Xukun?” he asks, words rolling easily off his tongue.

“Just that apparently Hualan was crying all of fourth period after you ‘led her on and then broke her heart’.” Xukun uses obnoxiously large finger quotes for emphasis.

Ziyi groans. “I didn’t mean to lead her on! She left chocolates _in my locker_ for a month. How was I supposed to tell her to stop when I didn’t even know who she was?”

Xukun laughs. “She’s spoiling you, Ziyi. Why don’t you date her?”

“I don’t know,” Ziyi says, swatting Xukun’s arm lightly. He doesn’t know, really. Hualan is really nice and cute too. She’s also really good at algebra. But Ziyi’s at this age where he feels so _awkward_ in his skin – his legs have grown ten miles recently and his face is lengthening out and he doesn’t ever know what to do with his hands. And then, there’s another, deeper part of him that wants to wait for love. The kind that he sees in his parents. The kind that he sees in the movies. The kind that will sink into his heart like a hook and never let him go. “Just, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Xukun grins, because he always understands what Ziyi is trying to say.

“Well why don’t _you_ date someone then?” Ziyi asks.

Xukun hesitates, and then hedges, “Actually…”

Ziyi blames his exhaustion from basketball practice when the first thought to run through his mind is _Zhengting?_ His heart is suddenly hammering, and he rolls over to look at Xukun.

“Nothing’s happened yet!” Xukun exclaims. “But Meiyang…I’m pretty sure she likes me. And I was thinking of asking her out.”

“Oh,” Ziyi says. He’s trying to think of a better response, something that's not  _Zhengting is going to fucking die._

“Yeah,” Xukun says. “She’s really nice and cute.”

“She has pretty hair,” Ziyi adds, and Xukun laughs.

“I think she’s a good person, and it’s about time, you know? It’s good to get some experience dating.”

Ziyi looks at Xukun, his _best friend_ , and knows he’ll support him through anything. He grins. “Then go for it,” he says. “Who could resist you?”

Xukun asks out Meiyang two days later in front of her locker. The news spreads through the school like wildfire, and the entire female population collectively loses their shit. Meiyang sits with them at lunch, and she’s smiling so wide her whole face is glowing. She’s really pretty, Ziyi notices. And she has a good sense of humor and makes Xukun laugh. She isn’t loud and doesn’t speak at a hundred words per minute and is completely charming. She’s the opposite of Zhengting.

Ziyi doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about Zhengting, but it’s making him feel a little sick. Zhengting’s…obsession has only strengthened in the past few years. Although he doesn’t see Xukun as much (they’re too old for playdates, and since Xukun doesn’t really invite Zhengting over, it’s a little awkward for him to show up at Xukun’s door every day), the adoration in his eyes whenever he sees Xukun is blinding. He always brings Xukun treats and gifts, and for Xukun’s last birthday, he built him a skateboard. Yeah. _Built_. From scratch.

Xukun always smiles at Zhengting sweetly and ruffles his hair, saying “Aww, thank you Zhengzheng. You’re so sweet.” Zhengting’s eyes still bug out each time.

Zhengting’s around so often that him and Ziyi have struck up some sort of weird relationship. In the beginning, it was pretty obvious that Zhengting didn’t care at all about Ziyi, and Ziyi didn’t even know how to get a word in while Zhengting was talking and being so…weird, but sometimes Xukun steps out when they’re both around, and they begin to get to know each other. Zhengting’s still loud and obnoxious, but it’s not as bad as Ziyi feared when all of Zhengting’s attention is directed on him. Zhengting just chatters on about whatever is crossing his mind, and Ziyi can follow along, adding in nods and grunts whenever appropriate. Sometimes, Zhengting will say things that are so absurd and unexpected that he’ll make Ziyi laugh. It surprises both of them.

So maybe they’re sort of friends. Which is why Ziyi finds himself at Zhengting’s doorstep after school. He’s never been here before, he realizes. Zhengting’s been over to Ziyi’s place hundreds of times, and to Xukun’s place thousands of times more, but Ziyi’s never been inside Zhengting’s home. And he’s never, ever been the one to seek out Zhengting. Zhengting always comes for Xukun, and removing him from the picture feels so jarring that Ziyi almost wants to turn around and run back to Xukun’s place, back to someone who always understands what he’s trying to say.

The door opens as Ziyi’s trying to convince himself to ring the doorbell. It’s Zhengting. He’s wearing a ridiculous set of red matching plaid pajamas with clouds on them. It’s five in the afternoon. His face is dark and stormy. Ziyi’s never seen that expression on him before.

“I’ve been watching you fidget on our doorstep for the past five minutes,” he says, and stomps into the living room.

Cautiously, Ziyi follows. Zhengting curls up on the couch with a fluffy blanket that looks like it swallows him whole. Ziyi squints at the TV screen.

“Are you watching Sex and the City?” he ventures.

“You’re such a Charlotte,” Zhengting mumbles miserably, his face buried in the blanket. “I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. You have this whole ‘ _oh I’m Wang Ziyi I’m such a cool guy’_ persona, but on the inside you’re just a naïve romantic idealist who’s looking for love. And the best in everyone. And really nice shoes,” Zhengting adds after a quick sniffle.

“So I guess you think you’re Carrie then?” Ziyi dares to sit down on the edge of the couch. He’s never seen this show before, but he’s read enough Buzzfeed articles to know that Carrie is the main girl, the one that talks a lot.

Zhengting snorts. “Fuck that,” he says. It makes Ziyi flinch. He’s never heard Zhengting curse before, and it sounds strange, tinged with bitterness and spite. “I’m Miranda. I don’t give a _shit_ about men. My career comes first. I’m going to be a billionaire and dye my hair a fabulous shade of red and live in New York City.”

It’s silent for a while.

“So…” Ziyi starts, and then immediately regrets it when he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“So what did you come here for?” Zhengting sits up and glares at Ziyi. His eyes are red-rimmed and watery, and Ziyi is horrified at the thought that Zhengting’s been crying silently, head stuffed in that stupid blanket while Ziyi sat there like an idiot. “Want to tell me to stay away from him now, so I don’t wreck their picture-perfect relationship? Don’t worry. Message received.” Zhengting takes a deep breath, presumably preparing for a real mother of a rant, and Ziyi has to stop this before it goes any further.

“No! No!” His hands are out in front of him like he’s talking down a wild animal. “Zhengting, that’s not it. I just…I just came to see if you were okay.” As he says it, he realizes it’s true. He wants Zhengting to be okay. He’s _worried_ about Zhengting.

Zhengting snorts. “Yeah. Fine. Great. Thanks for stopping by.” He goes back into his blanket burrito. The invitation to leave is painfully clear.

Ziyi prays he’ll survive this encounter without getting his arm bitten off, and he slowly lifts the blanket off of Zhengting’s face. His heart sinks. Zhengting’s face is shiny with tears and snot, and he tries to burrow further into the couch. “Ugghhhh,” Zhengting moans. “Can you leave me with some dignity intact? Go away. Please.”

Ziyi swallows past the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how to handle Zhengting like this – hurt and vulnerable and aching. But he knows he can’t leave him like this.

Crouched next to Zhengting, he doesn’t know what to do but put his hand into Zhengting’s hair. “Hey,” he says. “Zhengting. It’s okay.” It makes Zhengting start to shiver uncontrollably, and _then_ he starts sobbing. Real big, shaky sobs that sound painful coming out. It sounds like he can’t breathe. Ziyi doesn’t know what to do so he keeps stroking Zhengting’s hair. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s okay.” Each time he says it, Zhengting’s body jolts like it hurts. He keeps crying and crying and gasping for air, until eventually those gasps turn into pleas.

It takes Ziyi a minute before he can make out Zhengting begging, “Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him. Please don’t tell him,” over and over again.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, Zhengting I won’t. It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Zhengting keeps crying. On screen, Carrie Bradshaw says, “I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.”

-

Xukun and Meiyang date throughout the school year. Ziyi gets used to spending less time with Xukun. They’re still best friends, and Ziyi understands that this is how it is when your best friend gets a girlfriend. He spends a lot of his free time practicing basketball with the other guys on the team. Xukun’s the team captain, but the whole team is really good, and he starts to become better friends with them. He gets a huge growth spurt in the spring semester, and suddenly his coach is looking at him with a lot more interest. His shoulders begin to broaden, and his mom proclaims tearfully that “her baby boy” is getting biceps.

Things are better with Zhengting. He still comes around. But it was bad for a while, really bad. After Ziyi went to his house, Zhengting didn’t come over for weeks. Xukun said that maybe he found other friends, or better things to do. Ziyi holds his tongue. Thinks about Zhengting begging Ziyi not to tell Xukun anything.

When they eat lunch in the cafeteria, Meiyang, still glowing, calls Xukun “Kun”. It sounds weird coming out of her mouth, sounds weird when it’s not said in Zhengting’s bright voice.

One day, Ziyi bumps into Zhengting in the hallway. He realizes he’s never seen Zhengting at school before, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he wasn’t looking or if Zhengting’s been good at hiding. “Hey,” he says, and Zhengting pales. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He looks thinner.

Ziyi realizes that it's been  _weird_ not having him over, not hearing his incessant chattering while him and Xukun play League.

“Zhengting,” he says firmly before Zhengting runs off. “You should come over some time. It’s weird not having you around.”

“I –” Zhengting says before his mouth snaps closed, and his eyes dart around. Ziyi would have never imagined it - Zhu Zhengting, at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to,” Ziyi starts, stops, and starts again. “I mean, _he_ doesn’t have to be here. We can just, you know, catch up,” he shrugs, feeling like a massive idiot, because when have him and Zhengting ever _caught up_ about anything. The only reason he’s ever been in the same room as Zhengting is because of Xukun.

“Um,” Zhengting says. His face is really really pale. “Yeah. I’ve been – I’ve been busy. Lately. Really busy. Thanks, though, for the invite. I’ll just see you around, or, you know, maybe at graduation or never again, whatever works.”

He hastily spins on his heel and walks straight into a locker.

Later, as the nurse dabs antibiotics onto the sizeable cut on his nose, Zhengting bemoans, “ _God_ , that was the stupidest thing ever, Wang Ziyi. What the hell. Actually what the hell. How do you always see me in these moments. I want to die.” Ziyi can’t help laughing, shaking his head at how ridiculous the situation is.

“All done honey,” the nurse says cheerily. “Remember to think happy thoughts!”

“He can lie down for twenty more minutes, and then you both should get back to class,” the nurse says to Ziyi, before bustling out the door.

“I should be thanking you,” Ziyi chuckles. “You got me out of geometry.”

Zhengting flops his arms around and makes a sound like a dying whale. “I hate. My life.”

“I give you an eight out of ten for execution,” Ziyi can’t stop smiling. “The blood gushing out of your nose was a nice touch.” He doesn’t mention how he went into full panic mode at the sight of Zhengting bleeding, fearing for a broken nose or concussion or some sort of amnesia. Ziyi isn’t terribly familiar with how those things work.

“Tell me, Ziyi,” Zhengting groans. He sounds terribly nasally and congested at the same time. “How do you always manage to look so cool? God, you’re like the James Dean of our school. Ice-cool, baby. Nothing gets to you.”

Ziyi's brow furrows. He doesn’t _try_ to appear that way. “Guess I just don’t eat shit that turns my tongue blue.”

Zhengting freezes for a second, then begins laughing. It’s a nice sound. Ziyi’s never made Zhengting laugh like that before. “God, I can’t believe you remember that. I was such a weird kid.”

“Was?” Ziyi can’t help himself.

“Wang Ziyi, I swear to God I’ll get off this cot and smash your face into a locker. I know how it works now, I’ve seen the move first-hand, and I’ll give you a nasty little gash on your nose. It’ll need bandages and a nose clip that makes you sound like Gilbert Gottfried.”

Ziyi can’t stop laughing. They end up talking in the nurse's office for way too long and cut last period.

Zhengting comes over after school.

It’s weird, at first. Xukun isn’t there and Zhengting is still a little fidgety, talks too much when he’s nervous, _which is always_ , but they find common ground eventually.

Zhengting, Ziyi learns, is a dancer. He’s never known this before, and he realizes guiltily that there’s _a lot_ he doesn’t know about Zhengting. Zhengting’s always sat in the room, absorbing information about Xukun (and Ziyi, by extension), but Ziyi hasn’t every asked about him. But it’s clear that dance is Zhengting’s _life_. He started when he was six years old. He always had a fascination with ballerinas (“Ever since I saw The Nutcracker.” “You saw The Nutcracker as a toddler?” “Yeah! Well, you know, the Barbie version on VHS.”) He's been dancing ever since, goes to practice five times a week, and dedicates countless more hours of his own time to improving his skills. Ziyi can see the passion evidently in his eyes, and it’s disarming. This is Zhengting, who switches topics every 30 seconds, who can never stay focused or on track. Yet here he is, reverence in his voice as he patiently and thoroughly explains different dancing styles and influences to Ziyi. It’s a completely different side of Zhengting, and Ziyi can’t quite reconcile it with the Zhengting that he knew from before.

Zhengting shows Ziyi some of his favorite dance practice videos, and Ziyi is blown away. To be honest, he always thought that dance was a bit…soft. Easy. Maybe even boring. Not a hard, _real_ sport, like basketball. But he’s captivated by the way these dancers move. Their bodies are powerful and sharp and fluid, and they look nothing at all like the stick-limbed boy sitting in front of him, but Ziyi can suddenly imagine Zhengting, _tiny_ little Zhengting who hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet and still has too-big eyes and the same haircut as he did when they were in fifth grade, hitting those same moves. Dancing powerfully under a spotlight, magnetizing in a way that Ziyi's never thought of before. It’s a strange visual.

“Hmm. I think I could see you doing it too,” Zhengting says when Ziyi tells him. “But not just any style. Maybe b-boying.”

“What?” Ziyi asks.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Wang Ziyi. _Breakdancing_.”

And that’s when Ziyi falls down the rabbit hole.

-

Xukun barges into his room towards the end of summer, saying “Ziyi, it’s been _forever_ , do you want to catch a movie tonight or – ?” He cuts off suddenly, eyes going wide at the scene before him.

 _Fuck_ , Ziyi thinks, and then, _double fuck_.

He’s upside down, trying to balance on one hand, while Zhengting struggles to hold his legs up with his tiny stick frame. Zhengting’s arms abruptly give out, and Ziyi crashes to the floor.

“Um,” he says, and chances a glance at Zhengting. Christ, every time he thinks Zhengting can’t go paler, he somehow does. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, very carefully not looking at Xukun.

Xukun’s gaze darts back and forth between them, like he doesn’t comprehend what he’s seeing. “What’s…going on?” he asks.

“Dancing,” Ziyi says miserably from his position on the floor. God, he really hopes Zhengting doesn’t do something monumentally _Zhengting_ like start rambling on about the benefits of increased blood circulation after a handstand or jump out the window or something equally horrifying. “You know I told you Xukun, I’ve been practicing this kind of stuff a bit more lately.”

“Yeah,” Xukun says, dragging out the word. Eventually, he says, “Well, not my fault if you look like an idiot.”

“Shut up,” Ziyi grumbles, smiling despite himself. It’s all good. Xukun always understands.

“Well, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to catch a movie tonight. I know I’ve been pretty busy, and I missed you.” Xukun says it so honestly that it makes Ziyi’s chest warm.

“Yeah, bro,” he says, and he sees Zhengting make a face from the corner of his eye. It’s a word he’s picked up recently, and Zhengting keeps giving him hell for using it. “For sure. Give me ten minutes. Missed you too.”

Xukun smiles, all traces of tension gone. “Sure. Meet you downstairs. Oh, and,” he turns to Zhengting, “it’s good to see you, Zhengzheng. You haven’t been around in a while.”

Zhengting swallows. “Yeah, Kun,” he says. “Good to see you too.”

As soon as Xukun shuts the door, Zhengting stuff his face into a pillow and screams in it with all his lungpower. “Jesus – _Zhengting_ ,” Ziyi says, startled. “You know he can still fucking hear you right, he just closed the door.”

Zhengting flops miserably to the floor. “Just kill me now,” he moans. “And I was doing so well too. I got down to only thinking about him ten times a day. _Ten times_ , Ziyi!!!” His eyes are truly bugging out now, and Ziyi’s afraid he’s going to combust or something, so he puts his hand in Zhengting’s hair to try and calm him down.

“Baby steps,” he reminds Zhengting.

“I’m going to be in love with him _forever_. I’m going to waste away while him and Meiyang ride off into the sunset. I’ll just haunt him like a ghost for the rest of his life.”

Despite himself, Ziyi laughs. He’s never met a more ridiculous person in his life. “Zhengting. You’re gonna find someone, you know. Someone who…treats you right and cares for you and…” he trails off awkwardly.

“Oh God, please, not the talk,” Zhengting wails. “I managed to avoid it from my parents for this long, and I’m not about to get it from you, Wang Ziyi.”

Ziyi groans. “Get out of here, Zhengting. Take your bullshit somewhere else.”

“But Xukun’s downstairs – ah, screw it. If I’m going to be in love with him forever, I might as well take all the eye candy I can get, right? Our love may be doomed, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take my pleasures as I get them.” With his head held high, Zhengting marches out of Ziyi’s room.

-

After the movies, Xukun says, “I didn’t know you were hanging out with Zhengting.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been around a lot,” Ziyi says, and he _doesn’t_ mean for it to sound bitter, he truly doesn’t. He's happy for Xukun and Meiyang, didn’t even think he was upset, but maybe deep down he’ll always be that shy little fifth grader who’s desperate for Xukun’s attention, who is so scared that Xukun doesn’t love him back the way that Ziyi does.

Xukun winces, and immediately all of Ziyi’s misgivings disappear. Screw his insecurities. He’s Xukun’s best friend and he wants Xukun to be happy and he _knows_ Xukun loves him best as well. “I’m sorry,” he says, trying to convey his sincerity. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Xukun holds his gaze for a while, then drops his head on Ziyi’s shoulder. “I know,” he says, and Ziyi feels relieved because Xukun always knows what he means. “I haven’t been a great best friend. You’re so important to me.”

“You too,” Ziyi says. He can’t imagine his life without Xukun. Doesn’t want to. “With Zhengting… I don’t know.” They sit in silence for a while. “Did you know he dances?” Ziyi finally asks.

“Huh,” Xukun says. “No, I didn’t. I can’t really imagine that. Zhengzheng, dancing...” He huffs out a laugh.

 _I can_ , Ziyi almost says. _I saw that side of him._

Xukun suddenly turns to him. “If you really want to dance, Ziyi, I think you’d be so, _so_ good at it. I want to help you, too. Let me know what I can do. Yeah?”

Ziyi closes his eyes. He’s so lucky. “Yeah,” he says, leaning against Xukun.

-

Eighth grade is a good year. Xukun and Meiyang break up about two months in, and then get back together a week later. Xukun and Ziyi both make varsity basketball. Ziyi’s growing a lot now, and so is Xukun, both of them shooting up like weeds. On the weekends, Ziyi’s older brother drives him to breakdancing contests and events, even if they’re hours away. They spend all their time in the car talking, about everything from school to love to their dreams, and Ziyi’s never felt closer to his brother. Zhengting’s been hanging around Xukun and Ziyi now, and it’s almost like old times. He still runs his mouth incessantly and Xukun still ruffles his hair tells says “Aww, that’s sweet, Zhengzheng,” and it still makes Zhengting’s mouth gape open and his eyes bug out.

Ziyi asks a girl out. Her name is Hudan and she has gorgeous, giant eyes, and she smells nice. They study together for biology after school. When they lean in close, heads almost touching as they read over the stages of mitosis, Ziyi feels his pulse flutter and thinks, _Maybe this is it. What the love songs all talk about._

He takes her to a movie theater and is so nervous he’s nearly shaking out of his seat. She’s wonderful though, calms him down and tells him he looks nice. Halfway through the movie, she takes his hand. It’s clammy and greasy with popcorn, and he thinks he’s never been more uncool in his life. She puts her head on his shoulder. He’s probably sweated through his t-shirt _and_ jacket by now.

“You’re so cute, Ziyi,” she says after the movie’s over and they’re walking to the pizza parlor nearby.

“Can’t compete with the present company,” he says, and she giggles, and he thinks about how much _shit_ Xukun will give him for using a line like that.

Before her parents come to pick her up, he takes her to the alley outside the pizza place and kisses her. It’s a little wet and messy and _great_ and she keeps making these _sounds_ and Ziyi pulls away far too soon.

When he asks her to be his girlfriend a week later, she squeals and jumps into his arms. “Yes!” she says. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He’s still riding this high as he’s practicing with Zhengting. Dancing, he’s realized, is highly collaborative. You have to practice with other people in order to get better. There are so many things you can’t catch for yourself. Small movements, expressions you don't even realize you're making until someone else points it out.

“You’re so whipped for Hudan, Wang Ziyi,” Zhengting laughs as they take a water break. “And to think I thought you were cool for all this time.”

Ziyi flicks him with his damp towel. Zhengting immediately takes offense and begins squawking about _sweat germs_ and whatnot. Ziyi watches his tirade and thinks that maybe he could understand how someone might find it endearing. Yeah, Zhengting’s still loud and obnoxious and unfiltered but it’s not that bad. It’s kind of nice sometimes. In fact, it’s a little bit –

His phone rings.

His phone rings and it's a number he doesn't recognize, but Ziyi leaves the room to answer it. 

He barely gets out "Hello?" before the voice on the other end starts talking, and the world is flipped upside down. He lowers himself against the wall, shakily, until his ass hits the floor, and it still feels like he's about to keel over. His breathing is starting to sound louder and louder, and he isn’t quite sure what the lady on the phone is saying right now because all that’s running through his mind are the words _family_ and _car crash_ and _fatal_.

His family.

His family had gone to dinner today, and Ziyi had skipped because he had practice, because he was practicing dancing, his dancing that his brother always took the time to drive him to and Ziyi wasn’t there but his family _was_ there, in their shitty old rusted minivan that his mom bought after Ziyi was born. They were there and he wasn’t but in the end it doesn't even matter who was where, because  _they aren't here anymore_ and –

Ziyi becomes aware of someone calling his name. Zhengting is crouched in front of him, big eyes boring into his soul as he says, “Ziyi? Wang Ziyi? Can you hear me? What happened? Ziyi?”

Ziyi feels removed from his body. This can't be happening to him. He watches himself dumbly hand Zhengting his cell phone. Zhengting puts it up to his ear and says, “Hello? Hello? Who is this?”

Ziyi doesn’t remember a lot of the rest of it. Shock, is what they say. Perfectly normal, to be expected in the face of sudden trauma.

A drunk driver made an unprotected left turn and smashed into his family’s car. He had a blood alcohol concentration of 0.38%. It was a fatal crash for both parties. His father and brother had died on impact, while his mother, the driver, had slowly bled out before they got her to a hospital. Ziyi wasn’t there. And they aren't here anymore.

-

The funeral’s a blur. It’s quickly arranged – just empty caskets since the bodies are mangled beyond recognition. He remembers a lot of people from school there. Lots of familiar faces. He hasn't slept in about three days and his skin looks sunken and people keep fucking _staring_ at him. After a while he starts staring back.

The looks stop coming. 

Xukun gets up and speaks, and his voice is strong. He speaks about what it means to love someone, to leave an impact on other people. What it means to be a family. He shares stories about Ziyi’s family, stories that make everyone laugh and cry at the same time. Ziyi doesn’t register much of it. He doesn’t register much of anything these days.

Zhengting goes up, too. Ziyi remembers being vaguely surprised in some distant part of his brain. Zhengting talks about how kind Ziyi’s mom was, how she always made him his favorite snack every time he came over. How Ziyi’s dad would ask about his dancing and how Ziyi’s brother would help him with tough math problems. Ziyi has no recollection of any of these interactions. He never saw it. Zhengting breaks down in the middle of the speech and doesn’t end up finishing it. He’s always been emotional like that, Ziyi thinks. It’s okay.

Ziyi is supposed to speak last. His throat is on fire. He keeps drinking water. It’s his family. That’s his family and he wasn’t there and now they aren’t here anymore. He has nothing more to say. He goes up front and manages to get out, “I wasn’t there,” before his throat closes up entirely and he leaves.

-

It doesn’t end. There are a million things to be signed, a million interviews, a million visits from therapists and policemen and government workers. There’s a pressing issue, and that issue is him. Ziyi is still a minor. His only living relative is his senile grandmother who’s in a nursing home. She hasn’t recognized him since she was 80, and there’s no way she’d be able to take care of him now. He has nowhere else to go.

The Cais have been walking him through everything since the accident. They’ve been at every meeting, looking over every document. Sorting out wills and insurance payments and whatnot. They’re also there when the possibility of foster homes is brought up.

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Cai says, and her voice is firm.

The haggard social worker sighs. “We’ve been over this, Mrs. Cai. Ziyi doesn’t have any capable living relatives, which means – ”

“We’ll adopt him,” Mrs. Cai interrupts.

There’s a long silence. Xukun squeezes Ziyi’s hand so tightly it feels like his bones might crack and splinter apart. Ziyi’s just tired. He’s been tired since the accident. He wants the world to go away.

The social worker clears her throat. “Well, we can start talking about the paperwork, if you’re absolutely sure – ”

“We’re sure,” Mr. Cai says this time, putting his arm around his wife. “Of course we’re absolutely sure.”

And that’s that.

The social worker leaves after a while, and Ziyi goes up to his room in his empty husk of a house. He feels like a ghost. Or maybe he's the one who's being haunted. He keeps thinking he hears his mom's footsteps downstairs. He pulls the covers over his face and exhales in the darkness. Finally. Some quiet.

There’s a quiet knock at the door. “Ziyi?” It's Xukun.

They’ve never knocked before. Ziyi doesn’t know what to say.

The door opens anyways.

Xukun always understands what he means.

“Hey,” Xukun says, and sits at the edge of his bed. After a moment, he tugs at the covers gently. It’s a question. Ziyi lets him slip under with him. In this darkness beneath the comforter, he thinks, everything is possible. His brother could be watching TV downstairs. His dad could be in the backyard.

Xukun grabs his hand. They’re laying side by side on their backs. Ziyi is so, so tired. _He’s going to be my brother now_ , he thinks wildly, and almost laughs. Xukun, who always understood him better than anyone, who has always been his best friend, his _soulmate_ , is now going to be his brother. Fate sure has a fucked up way of working things out.

“We used to talk about being brothers,” Ziyi says, and his voice sounds painful, scraped out. “When we were kids.”

Xukun starts to cry. He doesn’t make a sound, but Ziyi _knows_ Xukun, knows the way his body stiffens out and trembles when he’s crying. “I love you,” Xukun says, and Ziyi feels it in his core. “I love you so much.”

Ziyi doesn’t even realize he’s crying too until Xukun rolls on top of him to hug him, and he feels how much his tremors are wracking Xukun’s body. Once he realizes, the floodgates are open. He buries his face in Xukun’s neck and tries _very fucking hard_ not to think about anything at all. He tries to bite his lip to keep the sounds back – he’s always hated how out of breath and desperate he sounds when he’s crying, and he’s not that snot-nosed fifth grader anymore who cries at the thought of change – but he soon bites his lip bloody and raw and then the words start spilling out. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he has no clue why he says it, what the fuck he's even apologizing for, but once he starts he can’t stop. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, Xukun I’m so sorry I’m sorry.” He can’t catch his breath. He can’t do anything except claw at his bedsheets helplessly, wheezing embarrassingly loud as he tries to breathe through the sobs tearing out of him.

Xukun doesn’t say anything back, just holds him tighter and tighter until Ziyi feels like he might break his chest open, split it in two and let all the ugly things come pouring out until everything is better again. It’s exactly what Ziyi needs. Xukun always understands what he means.

-

School starts. It’s high school. Xukun and him used to talk about high school in hushed tones, like it was some sort of magical kingdom. They had imagined shiny red cars and pool parties.

He’d never imagined this.

Over the summer, Ziyi moved into Xukun’s guest room. Most nights he had nightmares, so Xukun would sneak in and sleep with him, waking him up whenever he started to whimper too loud. Xukun spent most days with him too. Just sitting around. After a week of this, he broke up with Meiyang. Ziyi thought he should probably feel bad for taking up so much of Xukun’s time. He didn't feel much of anything.

Hudan had called and texted him a lot. _Please, talk to me. I want to help you._ That sort of thing. After a few weeks, she stopped trying. He wondered if they were broken up now.

Zhengting stopped by a few days after Ziyi moved into the Cai house. For once, he didn’t greet Xukun first.

“Hi, Ziyi,” he said.

“Dancing isn’t as fun without you,” he said.

“You can come over and we can work on the summer homework together,” he said.

“I didn’t know how to handle it. That. When you got that phone call. I should’ve. I should’ve handled it better. I mean, I was there and I just kind of froze and didn’t really help at all and. I don’t know. I know I couldn't have made it better but I just wish I could’ve _somehow_ made it better, you know what I mean? I just didn’t know. Ziyi, I just didn’t know what to do,” he said.

And now school’s started. High school. Ziyi never imagined this.

-

Everything takes time. The nightmares don’t go away. Ziyi throws himself into basketball practice. The other team members are equally impressed by and terrified of him. He throws himself into schoolwork. He’s making straight A’s. He throws himself into housework. The counters are always gleaming and the dishes are washed.

Xukun’s always there. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they go out and watch movies and it’s almost nice, almost like it was before. The first time Xukun makes Ziyi laugh after the accident, it's two months later and he’s ranting about how bad _Breaking Dawn – Part 2_ was.

“I was robbed of $14 to see a display of pedophilia. _Pedophilia_ , Ziyi. Between a werewolf and half-vampy baby called Renesmee, of all the camp things. _Fourteen dollars,_ ” He huffs, kicking a stone down the sidewalk. “This is capitalism at its finest.”

Ziyi laughs, and it startles both of them. It’s a sharp laugh, more of a bark than anything else. It feels a bit painful. A huge grin splits across Xukun’s face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Xukun snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Everything takes time.

Ziyi talks more in therapy. He catches the looks of relief on Mr. and Mrs. Cai’s faces at the dinner table as he asks them to pass the salt, and wonders how bad it was before. He thinks _that’s my mom and dad now_ , and it’s enough to make nausea rise in his throat. He has to excuse himself and run to the bathroom, dry heaves for the better part of an hour while Xukun kneels on the tile next to him. His therapist reminds him that healing is not linear. Ziyi still feels like it’s all bullshit, but maybe it's bullshit that he's beginning to understand.

School isn’t as bad anymore. People start to slowly forget. You can't talk about one tragedy forever. The pity looks are still strong, but what the hell can he do about that? At least he gets along decently with his chemistry lab partner, who never hesitates before talking to him and is prone to breaking all their test tubes. The day that Ziyi saves Zhangjing from burning his hand off in their solution, he starts sitting at their lunch table. Ziyi is taken aback by the enormity of his appetite.

“I’m on a seafood diet,” Zhangjing proclaims happily as he piles four pudding cups onto his tray. “I see food and then I eat it.”

It makes Xukun and a few others groan, and Zhangjing pouts. “Hey! My friend told me that one. He loves puns. I thought it was funny.”

Ziyi feels a smile tug at his lips. He doesn’t fight it.

On the day that Ziyi catches himself blankly staring at the wall and thinking about the rush he got when he did a headspin properly for the first time, he deliberates for a few minutes and then texts Zhengting.

The answering text he immediately gets is full of emojis. Ziyi isn’t even sure if there’s a single word in there. It makes him smile.

Everything takes time.

-

At the beginning of tenth grade, Zhengting says, “I have something to tell you.”

“You’re in love with me?” Ziyi quips as he stretches out his hamstrings and winces.

“Not as long as your bro’s sweet ass still roams this Earth,” Zhengting retorts.

“Ugh,” Ziyi groaned. “I cannot wait for the day that you get over that shit.”

“Never gonna happen, Wang Ziyi,” Zhengting says, way too cheerfully for someone talking about their doomed unrequited love. “Anyways, so not the point.” He does this weird stretch where he raises his leg behind his head, and Ziyi’s muscles twinge painfully at the thought of it.

“I,” Zhengting says proudly as he attempts to push his foot up his nostril, “am applying to an exchange program.”

“Where to? Up Xukun’s asshole?”

“Ha ha,” Zhengting says dryly. “Korea.”

“Good one.”

“I’m serious!” Zhengting says. “I’m gonna go on one of those ‘life-changing trips abroad’ and come back toned and tall and gorgeous and Xukun will fall head over heels for me.”

“You? Toned and tall?” Zhengting’s still about the size of Ziyi’s pinky finger. At this point, Ziyi thinks he’ll just be this size forever.

“You need to learn some respect, Wang Ziyi. You’re gonna eat your words when you see me after I come back. You’ll fall at my feet, begging for me to just grant your one caress, one simple touch, and I’ll turn you away and bring up this exact conversation and humiliate you in front of the entire student body.”

“So you're really going? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. My parents think it’ll be good for me. To get away and everything… to meet some new people.”

Ziyi could sympathize with that. Although they’d all grown up quite significantly, Zhengting’s crush had done anything but died down. Most of his time with Ziyi was spent waxing poetic about Xukun, and Ziyi knew for a fact that he had an alarming number of Xukun’s selfies printed out in his room.

“You think you’ll get in?”

“Dunno,” Zhengting says. “But you have to shoot your shot! Even if you don’t reach the moon, you’ll still be near another moon. Or whatever they say.”

"You're gonna get mugged," Ziyi says thoughtfully. "Or conned into joining some kind of gang." He can't imagine it - tiny little Zhengting in an entirely foreign country, all by himself. It's a little scary.

-

Zhengting is accepted in the spring. It’s a two-year program, for the rest of high school. He hosts a goodbye party, and it’s very elaborate and blown-up and utterly  _Zhengting_. There are a lot of people here that Ziyi's never seen before. He doesn't know who they are. How does he not know this?

“Nice party,” Ziyi tells Zhengting. “You’d think you’d just gotten engaged or something.”

“Those were the only balloons they had!” Zhengting whines. “Do you think anyone else will notice? We painted over them.”

Ziyi laughs, and when he sees Zhengting’s eyes start to bug out, he turns around. Sure enough, Xukun is coming over.

“Hi Zhengzheng,” Xukun says, and Ziyi can see Zhengting writing their wedding vows in his head. God, how has Xukun still not noticed after all these years?

“Kun!” Zhengting says happily and runs in for a hug. He must be feeling particularly brave today. Maybe he realized he was leaving and just thought, _fuck it_.

Xukun laughs, surprised but happy, as he wraps Zhengting in a hug. “I’m so excited for you. Korea, huh? You’re gonna experience a lot.”

“Yeah,” Zhengting says, voice sounding wobbly and _is he going to cry?_ That little shit. Ziyi spends _years_ practicing dancing with him and Zhengting lets him go with barely a “Ciao, see you later”, while Xukun wins the Most Oblivious Casanova award for the sixteenth year in a row, and Zhengting busts out the waterworks over him. “I’m gonna miss you a lot.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, Zhengzheng,” Xukun smiles and tussles Zhengting’s hair. Cue the open mouth and bugging out. Cue Xukun never noticing. “Thank you.”

Zhengting stumbles off in some sort of haze before being tackled by a group of people shoving confetti in his face. Ziyi wonders when he made friends.

“Hey bro,” Xukun says, bumping his shoulder.

“Hey bro,” he says back. Xukun, his brother, standing at his side. Xukun’s done so much for him. He's always been there and understood and gave and loved, and Ziyi feels so lucky. He _understands_ Xukun, and he loves that.

Well. He understands most of Xukun, except for one thing. Zhengting. After so long, how can he not know what Zhengting feels for him? Or maybe he does, but Ziyi thinks Xukun would never be that cruel to keep leading Zhengting on. Ziyi doesn’t understand how Xukun can be so sweet to Zhengting but know nothing about him. Have no interest in him. Didn’t even know he liked to _dance_ , after being friends with Zhengting his whole life.

“Xukun,” Ziyi says carefully. “Zhengting really likes you, you know.”

“Yeah,” Xukun says lightly. “I know.”

Except this time, Ziyi thinks maybe Xukun doesn’t understand what he means at all.

-

By eleventh grade, Ziyi begins to grow out his hair. The Cais are horrified, and Ziyi has woken up one too many times with Mrs. Cai holding her kitchen scissors _way_ too close to his head, but they come to grudgingly accept it. Xukun is delighted. “Looks so cool, Ziyi,” he says, as he tugs at a strand. “Taoxing will love it.”

Taoxing and him started going out a few months ago. She’s great. Funny with a great sense of style. She’s the first girl he’s truly gone anywhere with, flipped her skirt up in the backseat of the car after three weeks of going steady and ate her out until her legs shook uncontrollably.

She’s new at this too, so they’ve been teaching each other everything about sex, about how bodies can bend and push and make embarrassing noises but it’s okay because he’s always laughing when he’s with her. It’s really good.

“Yeah?” Ziyi laughs. “Well now you have to go through with your end, bro.”

Xukun groans. “You asshole, I wasn’t actually serious about that!”

But Ziyi is a stubborn motherfucker when he wants to be, and the day ends with him and Xukun at a pharmacy, Xukun handling the boxes of hair dye like they’re like they’re going to combust in his hands.

Ziyi groans, slumped against the opposite aisle. “Are you doneeee yet?”

“Five more miles before we stop for a potty break,” Xukun sing-songs as he weighs two dye boxes in his hands like a scale. “Do you think I’m more of a platinum blonde or an ash blonde?” He spots another bottle and gasps. “Or maybe a sandy blonde?”

“Go with platinum,” Ziyi suggests. “We don’t want ashes or sand in your hair.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Xukun grumbles, but he sets down the ash blonde box and they head towards checkout. The girl at the cashier gives them both a once-over and blushes. It makes Xukun grin and give her a small wink.

Ziyi rolls his eyes. Xukun’s always been…charismatic, to put it lightly, but last summer he glowed up faster than an incandescent light bulb. Now he’s all lean limbs and a face that would make an angel cry. Ziyi supposes he isn’t too bad himself. Basketball and dance have toned him in all the right places, though he does more of the latter and little of the former now. His hair is no longer the unfortunate bowl cut it once was, and his bangs are edging down past his eyebrows. He has an image in his head of himself with long hair, long enough to put in a ponytail, but it sounds stupid in his head every time he tries to verbalize it. He’ll see how it goes.

Xukun, on the other hand, doesn’t actually start freaking out about his hair until his head is in the sink and they’re washing out the dye. “Holy shit Ziyi,” he says, voice tense. “This – this is permanent. My hair is _bleached_ Ziyi, what am I gonna do?”

“It looks fine,” Ziyi says. “Besides, it’ll be easy to dye dark again if it really is a shit job.”

“Mom is gonna kill me,” Xukun says sadly. “Why do I ever listen to you?”

They rinse all the dye out and towel his hair dry. Ziyi whistles. Xukun turns in the mirror, examining his hair from every angle.

“You bastard,” Ziyi chuckles. “It suits you. It really, really suits you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Xukun has never sounded so smug in his life.

True to his word, Mrs. Cai does nearly murder him when she sees his head.

-

Senior year flies by. They both get piercings. Ziyi’s gets infected, and Xukun spends the next week simultaneously laughing at him while carefully dabbing rubbing alcohol onto it. Ziyi dates other girls, though not as much as Xukun. Poor guy can’t help it, not when they’re always falling on him like flies. Ziyi always likes the girl he’s with, and no big event ever happens to end it, but he always grows bored. He feels bad, but he figures it’s better that they can be with someone who loves them like they deserve. He thinks about how romantic he used to be, wanting true love and all that shit. Wanted that Carrie Bradshaw type of ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love. It probably won’t ever happen, and he’s more than okay with that. As long as you find someone nice and kind and smart and settle down with them, you’re a winner. Granted, you probably get bored after a while, but that’s just an unavoidable byproduct of spending time together. It’s okay, Ziyi thinks. Normal.

They’re standing in their graduation robes before too long. Ziyi looks around at his peers seated next to him, his fellow students who have gone through the last four years with him and feels a sudden surge of pride. They made it. It’s a bad Hallmark card, but it’s true. After all the shit he’s been through, and all the shit that everyone else has been through in their own lives, they’ve pulled through. The rest of their lives await them.

After they all walk across the stages, Xukun’s parents spend about an hour taking pictures of them. Mrs. Cai can’t stop tearing up, and while Ziyi is gently teasing her about it at first, at some point she mutters something about “my sons”, and he suddenly finds a lump in his throat.

Mr. Cai gives them both giant hugs and tells them how loved they are. “What would you two do without each other?” He asks.

Ziyi doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know, and he won’t have to, thank God. Him and Xukun both got accepted into the same university, a nationally ranked one close to home. Ziyi’s so grateful. He’s never been the most comfortable with change, and he doesn’t know what he would do without Xukun.

Xukun slings an arm around Ziyi’s shoulder. “Good thing we won’t have to find out,” he grins.

As the students begin to mingle and say their goodbyes, Xukun’s girlfriend runs up to him and hugs him. He picks her up and spins her around. “Congratulations, baby,” he grins.

“Congratulations, Kun,” she says, and Ziyi’s mind immediately goes, _Zhengting_. That was _always_ Zhengting’s nickname for Xukun. The association is so strongly branded in Ziyi’s mind that it’s the first thing he thinks of, even now, when Zhengting’s been gone for two years. Even though Xukun’s dated countless girls who used that exact same nickname. Xukun doesn’t notice, or if he does he doesn’t react, and he pulls her in for a kiss.

Zhangjing runs up, face flushed and dragging his friend, the one that always makes those cheesy puns. “Ziyi!” He yells. “We fucking did it!” He raises a middle finger to the sky. “Fuck you Mr. Bradshaw, and your stupid Bunsen burners!”

Ziyi laughs and lets himself be pulled into a group hug. A shower of balloons rain down from the auditorium, and more and more people stop by to say bye and get a hug. He didn’t realize how many people he knew here. The girl he sat next to in calculus, the guy he had to share a locker with for a week when that smoke bomb was set off, the guy he once ran laps with after school – they all come by, them and many others, and Ziyi feels his heart get fuller and fuller. He may not understand how these relationships form, how these threads are woven that connect him to all these other people, but maybe that's okay. What matters is that they're real people with real hopes and goals and plans, and Ziyi's been fortunate enough to have so many good ones in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zhangjing nearly trip over a balloon as he pulls his friend into a kiss, and thinks distantly, _Oh_. He feels almost like he did when he was a fifth grader asking Zhengting if his crush on Xukun was gay. He hasn’t thought much about it since; Zhengting was the only gay guy he knew, and that was such a part of Zhengting that Ziyi never even though to examine it, but Ziyi never thought it could be so easy. Just kissing in an auditorium surrounded by all the people you love. 

He looks around at the sea of graduates, at Mr. and Mrs. Cai ( _his parents_ , a part of him thinks), and at his best-fucking-friend-and-brother-in-the-world. He is so, so lucky.

-

Ziyi dedicates his summer to breakdancing. It’s become a bit of an obsession now, and he stay up for hours and rises at dawn to practice practice practice. Xukun starts up a YouTube channel for him, starts filming his dancing, and Ziyi amasses a small following. It’s not a lot by any means, a little over a hundred, but it’s growing, and he’s so proud he can hardly stand it.

He takes the train to weekend shows and competitions, getting his name out there a bit. He uses the stage name “BOOGIE”. It’s a little juvenile, and he doesn’t know how well it suits him now, but it’s the one he used when his older brother would drive him out to those weekend competitions, sacrificing sleep and homework time just to take Ziyi to do something he loved. He’s not changing it now.

While Ziyi dances, Xukun plays basketball. He’s always been more than good, the team captain throughout middle and high school, but now he’s pretty great. Ziyi thinks he should try out for the university team. Xukun thinks he’s crazy and that you have to get recruited for that, but Ziyi will be damned if he doesn’t make Xukun go to walk-on tryouts.

They move in to their dorm at the end of summer, a cramped little three-bedroom on the outskirts of campus. Their third roommate is a tiny music major with crazy straw hair and thick glasses called Qian Zhenghao. Xukun and Ziyi fall in love with him immediately.

He’s like the youngest brother they never had, they joke, and it always makes Haohao’s cheeks turn red and he proclaims “I’m the sensible one, okay, you guys are both insane. If anything, I should be the oldest.”

Other than being “sensible” (yeah right, Ziyi totally knows it was him that squeezed wasabi onto Xukun’s toothbrush that one time. They could never prove it, but who else could it be?), Haohao is also a damn good singer. They find this out one day as they’re crammed onto their tiny couch, watching “La La Land”. Haohao sings along to “City of Stars”, and his voice puts Ryan Gosling’s to shame. It’s deep and rich and nearly brings Xukun to tears. Afterwards, they dog-pile on him and force him to try out for an acapella group.

He does. Soon, he brings around some friends from his team – literal model Zheng Ruibin (“It’s part-time, calm down”), etherally gorgeous Zhou Rui (“I did my makeup like this once, and I was hooked”), and human sunshine Chen Linong (“Call me Nongnong!!”).

College is awesome. Ziyi meets a lot of nice people in his classes during the first week, and he already has a study group for each one. Him and Xukun still go out for their movie nights and Haohao makes a mean batch of steamed dumplings. There’s no curfew, no restrictions, and they all go to a frat party and get smashed on their first weekend. Ziyi ends up going home with a girl dressed in the skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen, and he tells her so as he rubs firm circles into her clit.

“I guess I – ahhh – was just hoping to meet someone like you,” she gasps out, raking her nails down his back, and he grins and goes in for a filthy kiss. She’s dripping as he pushes in, and she can’t stop making these breathy little moans that are really getting to him. Then he _really_ starts to move, and she nearly takes a chunk out of his neck.

It’s great. He wakes up the next morning with a throbbing headache, but his body feels loose-limbed. He takes a shower and they exchange numbers before he heads out. It’s a nice Saturday morning, sunny and bright, even though that means Ziyi’s temple throbs dangerously behind his sunglasses. He’s thinking he’ll go back to the dorm, sleep off the hangover, then go for a run with Xukun. Maybe they could drag Haohao along too, that kid needs to start exercising. Then hit up that breakfast place, the ones with the blueberry waffles that Ruibin said were to _literally_ to die for (“Not kidding. I think I actually saw someone get stabbed at that place”). After that, he can probably get an early start at that problem set that’s due next –

“WANG ZIYI!!!!”

His name is screeched so obnoxiously loudly that it makes him wince. God, and he’s right outside his dorm too. He spares a sad glance for his comfy bed waiting for him inside before he rubs his temple, wondering who the hell would greet him like this, when he sees two figures running across the street to him.

They’re both attractive, Ziyi notes from a distance. One of them is wearing skin-tight black pants and a loose button-up, and he’s waving frantically. He’s dragging the other person by the hand, and not very gently by the looks of it. They come to a stop in front of Ziyi, panting lighting.

Scratch attractive, these are criminally good looks. The shorter guy has bleached blonde hair that’s parted away from his forehead. His face is so open that it’s hard not to smiling upon seeing it. The other guy is tall, almost Ziyi’s height. His _legs_ seem to stretch on forever, taking up half his body alone. He has broad shoulders, and his face… Ziyi can admit that it belongs on the cover of magazines. He’s wearing a bandana, keeping his long bangs out of his eyes. Something about him is niggling furiously at Ziyi’s memory, and it becomes instantly obvious once the guy opens his mouth.

“Haha, see Justin? I knew it! I could recognize Wang Ziyi from across six lanes of traffic, even if he has those obnoxiously reflective shades on. These eagle eyes of mine. We grew up together, remember? Anyways, Ziyi, I can’t believe you go here too! What are the odds? This is Justin, I met him in the exchange program in Korea and we both applied here and got in! I raised him since he was fifteen years old and you know what they say, it’s _hard_ being a single parent but – ” and this is where his eyebrows shoot sky-high and Ziyi thinks _shit_. “Look at that monster on your neck, Wang Ziyi! Hoooollly shit did you get _mauled_? It looks like a vampiric bear took you for a spin. I guess you’re getting all the girls now huh, with your new growth spurt and your bad-boy hair and _all of this_.” He waves his hand in front of Ziyi’s face, way too close for comfort. Ziyi, whose brain is still broken, doesn’t respond like he should.

“Zhengting,” he says, and it comes out more like a question than he intended to. So sue him, he’s a little thrown off that tiny little bowl-cut stick figure bug-eyed Zhu Zhengting, who he _never_ thought he’d see again, mind you, comes back all tall and striking and wearing jeans that look painted on.

“He speaks!” crows Zhengting. He reaches up to grab Ziyi’s ponytail. “Damn, look at this thing. You’ve gone all Chris Hemsworth (pre-Ragnarok, of course), haven’t you? Obviously, he pulls it off better, but you’re a close contender, shit. It’s all soft. Justin, feel,” Zhengting grabs the other boys hand, but he shakes it off and sticks it out towards Ziyi.

“Hi!” He beams. “I’m Justin! This crackhead doesn’t know how to do proper introductions.”

Ziyi shakes it. This feels like a dream. “Wang Ziyi,” he says. His voice sounds like it's coming from a million miles away. “Zhengting and I used to be neighbors.”

“That must have been rough,” Justin smirks, then yelps when Zhengting smacks his head with his palm.

“Thought I taught you manners, Justin,” Zhengting says, then turns his attention back to Ziyi. “ _Anyways_ , we have to catch up. What are you all quiet for? I told you I’d be back all hot and toned and you’d lose your shit but guess who didn’t believe me?”

Zhengting continues to ramble on, but Ziyi barely hears him. His brain is still slow and muddled and his headache has ratcheted up to a constant, angry pulse now. It’s hard for him to focus on standing upright, let alone process the fact that this is _Zhu Zhengting_ right in front of him. Zhengting continues babbling, presumably about Ziyi’s hair again, since his hand snakes back up to pet his ponytail. At the movement, Zhengting’s shirt becomes untucked and Ziyi’s brain promptly short-circuits at the flash of _ink_ he sees on Zhengting’s hip and holy mother of God, he closes his eyes and prays to every deity he knows that this is a dream right now, that he’s still sleeping soundly, and that he’s not living in a universe where Zhu Zhengting is gorgeous and inked and standing right in front of him.

He opens his eyes. Zhengting’s still rambling. Justin’s staring at Ziyi with a calculating look in his eyes. Ziyi doesn’t have the brainpower to deal with that right now, so he looks at Zhengting instead. Maps all the changes. It’s still his face, to some degree. If you know where to look. The big eyes are still there, Zhengting just grew into them. It’s still Zhengting’s eyebrows, and his nose. Still his restless fingers. He’s just a lot…more, now.

Ziyi feels like something has changed, in some very fundamental way. Looking at Zhengting right in front of him, he feels unseated to his core. He feels –

“Ziyi!”

Zhengting’s mouth snaps shut. For all that he’s changed, the expression on his face is painfully familiar as his eyes bug out and his face pales.

Xukun walks up, looking immaculate in a jean jacket. Not a hair out of place. Ziyi watches Zhengting take in Xukun’s dyed blonde hair, his added height, the new sharpness to his face. Zhengting turns paler, if possible.

“Fun night, huh?” Xukun teases, nudging him. “After you sleep it off, wanna go to the waffles place that Ruibin has been practically living at?”

Zhengting has turned into a statue. Justin’s calculating look has amped up by ten degrees.

“Yeah,” Ziyi answers, throat dry. “Yeah, that sounds…great.”

Xukun finally takes in the strange atmosphere and turns to Zhengting and Justin. “Oh, hey,” he says, and he glances over both of them, no hint of recognition in his gaze. A fair bit of appreciation, though. Ziyi cannot believe this is happening. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself.” He sticks out his hand. “Cai Xukun.”

Justin grabs his hand. “Justin,” he says, “and you should know this idiot over here, by the way, he’s practically – ”

“Kun,” Zhengting says, eyes popping out of his head.

Ziyi wishes he had a camera. It’s just one of those moments that’s so, so priceless he wants to frame it and hang it above his headboard. Xukun looks genuinely _shocked_ in a way that Ziyi’s never seen before, breath punching out of him like he’s been socked in the gut. He takes in Zhengting’s form, and Ziyi wonders if he’s comparing it to the Zhengting from two years ago. Wonders if Xukun even notices the same nose and eyebrows and fingers.

“Zhengzheng,” Xukun finally breaks into a smile, and Zhengting launches himself into Xukun’s arms like a rocket. Xukun catches him with an _umph_. “I can’t believe it’s you, Zhengzheng. Korea really was good for you, huh?”

As Ziyi watches Zhengting practically vibrating with excitement in Xukun’s arms as he chats Xukun’s ear off about Korea, he realizes he was wrong. It doesn’t matter if Zhengting shot up six inches or changed his wardrobe or grew into the face of a marble statue. It doesn’t matter. Because where it does matter, Zhengting hasn’t changed at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe ziyi used to be my least fav in nine percent? hahhhahhahha...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the amazing response on ch1! i was so blown away - originally i just wrote this as a little project for myself. a million thank-yous for reading, enjoying, and giving me feedback.  
> also thanks for being patient with updates! i started my internship this week and have a heavy workload, so updates may come pretty slowly, but rest assured i'm working on it whenever i can! hope you all enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/ziyiglows)

“Halogens,” Xukun says, nursing a steaming mug of coffee on their couch. It’s a creaky, stained monstrosity that they picked up from this guy on Craigslist right before school started. It still smells like mothballs no matter how many times Ziyi Febreezes it, but it’s huge and comfortable and, most importantly, it’s theirs.

“Fluorine, chlorine, bromine, iodine,” Ziyi recites as he pokes gingerly at an egg on the frying pan. It’s been there for a while now – Xukun likes his eggs so well done that the yolk is nearly fossilized.

“Tag yourself, Ziyi’s _bro_ mine,” Xukun says, and high-fives a snickering Haohao.

“Next,” Ziyi says, rolling his eyes.

“Benzene.”

“A ring of six carbon atoms with alternating double and single bonds. Xukun, I’m gonna put more cooking oil on here. This egg will literally fuse with our pan in any second and we don’t have another good one.”

“It’s just cooking oil, not lube,” Xukun scoffs.

“Isn’t it enough that you have to suffer through this material?” Haohao groans, flopping his head on Xukun’s shoulder. “Don’t make us listen to it too at ten in the morning.”

Ziyi rolls his eyes. “Next.”

“Oxidation.”

Ziyi frowns. He always fucks this one up. “The…gaining of hydrogen or an electron.”

“It’s the other way around,” Xukun says, then rubs his eyes. “Wanna take a break, Ziyi? Haohao’s right; we’ve been at this for about an hour. I can quiz you again tonight if you want to look over it a bit more.”

Ziyi pokes the egg a bit more. It’s charring at an alarming rate. “Yeah, no problem bro. Hey, are you sure you want to keep cooking this?” He pours more oil on the pan, just in case.

“Give it another minute,” Xukun flaps his arm lazily. “I’m gonna take a shower.” Still yawning, he slumps off to the bathroom.

And now Ziyi’s alone without anything to occupy him. He worries his bottom lip. _Great_. Since studying’s out the window, he needs a new distraction. He chances a glance at his phone, thinks of the notification waiting on the lock screen, blinking in deceptively innocent font.

_ziyiiii wtf you guys left so soon today we barely even got to say anything :(((( if ur free tomorrow morning you should come over justin wants to meet you properly and i can only ward him off for so long :/ plus u need to spill all of your new haircare secrets !!!_

It’s fine. It’s just Zhengting. They were friends, sort of, before Zhengting left. Now that Ziyi thinks about it, they spent a lot more time hanging out together and practicing dancing than he realized. So they’re friends. Even if they haven’t seen each other in two years. They’re _friends._ It’s totally normal hang out with a friend. Right?

 _Noble gases_ , Ziyi forces himself to think. _Helium, argon, xenon… Or was it neon? Did I mix up the order again?_ His fingers twitch towards his phone before he clenches them into a fist.

 _Focus. Start over. Helium, neon (stupid fucking name for an element, anyways), argon, krypton…_ _Xenon? Did I already say that?_

He lasts about ten more seconds before he gives in. “Fuck it,” Ziyi mutters, unlocking his phone and hastily sending a message before he regrets it. _Invite still stand?_

His phone buzzes immediately. _jflslfjj THANK YOU now I have an excuse to make everyone clean up our pigsty of a room_

_i mean, it’s definitely their mess lol_

_u remember I was a total neat freak_

_ANYWAYS YES!!! COME OVER_

Zhengting misspells the address three times.

Ziyi is busy running through the worst-case possible scenarios from this meetup in his head when he hears a loud _pop_ from the stove. He turns around just in time to sees a fire about the size of his head explode angrily over the pan. _Fuck_.

Haohao’s reaction is instantaneous. He skids into the kitchen, screaming his head off. “What just happened? Did you use cooking oil? Is it a grease fire? Should I call 911?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, _I don’t know!_ ” Ziyi is freaking the fuck out. He’s never seen a fire this aggressive in his life. It’s only growing bigger, climbing threateningly towards the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” Xukun runs in, barely covered by a towel and dripping wet. “What’s going on?” He stops in his tracks when he sees the fire. “Holy _shit_.”

“We need to find a metal lid! Or baking soda!” Haohao is panicking as he scrambles around the kitchen, throwing open every cupboard.

“Oh my god,” Ziyi says, still in shock. “Yanchen is going to kill us.” Their RA has a smile that could cure cancer, but they all nearly shit their pants after witnessing him chew the head off of a kid who smashed his window open during a dorm party.

Hands shaking, Ziyi grabs a glass and starts filling it with water.

“Are you kidding me, Ziyi?” Haohao shrieks, half hysterical. “You can’t put water on a grease fire! You’re going to burn our dorm down! You were just studying chemistry, how do you not know this shit!” He finally digs out a gigantic metal lid and flings it over the burning pan. They all watch in silence as the fire simmers down agonizingly slowly until it finally goes out with a weak _hiss_.

In unison, they look up at the charred black spot on their ceiling. _Shit._ The fire alarm starts blaring in the hallway. Ziyi closes his eyes and swears. He can’t help but feel like this is some really unfortunate sort of foreshadowing.

-

Ziyi’s phone vibrates as he’s two minutes away from Zhengting’s building.

_ur taking sooo long im gonna hop in the shower but justin will let u in!_

_Okay_ , Ziyi thinks. Zhengting’s friend with the bleached hair. It’ll be fine.

He walks up the steps and very carefully doesn’t think about how bad of an idea this could turn out to be. Doesn’t think about how he left after the fire alarm stopped, Xukun’s hair still dripping wet as Ziyi said he was “just gonna meet a friend”. Doesn’t think about why he didn’t mention Zhengting’s name.

He’s going to go into Zhengting’s dorm and have a nice talk, like old friends catching up. It’ll be fine.

Ziyi drags his feet, slowly counting off each room number until he reaches the right door. It swings open before he even raises his hand to knock. Justin’s standing behind it, hair sticking up in a million different directions and eyes puffy. “Heeeeyyyyy,” he says, all drawn out, giving Ziyi a once-over. “Wang Ziyi.”

“Hey,” Ziyi says. “Um, Zhengting invited me over.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Justin says, a creepily large smile spreading across his face. “We know allllll about that.” He taps at his bare wrist. “You’re late.”

“Let him in already,” a voice moans from inside the dorm. “The cold air is getting out.”

Justin swings the door wider open. “Be our guest,” he says.

 _It looks like a tornado ripped its way through here_ , is Ziyi’s first thought. Clothes are scattered everywhere, jackets and shoes in careless heaps on the floor. There are dishes stacked about a foot high in the sink, and even more dirty ones on the counter and the table. Piles of paper are strewn on every surface available, and there’s a hair-dryer plugged in right next to the stove, for some reason. There’s a garishly orange couch in the living room, and another boy with violent red hair is sprawled on it.

The walls are covered with flyers for student orgs, class syllabi, and coupons. There’s one particularly disturbing section that’s plastered with print-outs of faces, red webs of yarn connecting each person to another. It’s all very serial-killer chic, if serial killers scribbled with pink sharpies and adorned each person’s face with Pusheen stickers. Ziyi can barely make out Zhengting’s face in the middle, it’s been written over so many times. Right next to it is a truly awful candid of Justin mid-sneeze, along with a blown-up and grainy picture of the boy on the couch. Both boys have ominously large X’s drawn through their eyes.

Strangely enough, there’s also a picture of the fry cook at Ruibin’s waffle place, the one who Ziyi ended up chatting with for a few minutes yesterday afternoon. Underneath his picture, in loopy pink script, it says “ZEREN, THE BREADWINNER OF OUR FAMILY WE WORSHIP YOU.” Ziyi counts seven pictures in total, but he doesn’t recognize the others.

 “Make yourself at home!” Justin chirps, kicking a pile of papers off of a section of the couch. They scatter in a million different directions and flutter sadly to the ground. “Sit down, sit down!” He wrinkles his nose. “I’d bring you tea, but I ran out a few days ago. And the last time I tried taking a bit of Jie-ge’s, he put me in a headlock for fifteen minutes, so…”

“And don’t you forget it,” a voice warns from inside a bedroom. The door opens, and a boy walks out, toweling off his hair. “Hey,” he says to Ziyi. “Zhu Xingjie.”

“Jie-ge’s our third roommate,” Justin says cheerfully. “His hobbies are rapping, magic tricks, and beating me up!”

“And starring in the Monster Hunt film franchise,” the boy on the couch says, voice muffled by a pillow.

Xingjie flips him off. “You should start chipping in for rent, asshole. Don’t you have your own place to stay at?”

“Eat my ass.”

“And this is Chengcheng!” Justin chatters on. “He’s like our honorary fourth roommate, since he’s basically been living here! We met at orientation when I was trying to buy Sour Patch Kids from the vending machine and they got stuck. Zhengting and I were trying to get them out by shoving the machine, but I guess we pushed too hard and it started falling and then Chengcheng came out of nowhere and pushed it back and saved us from being flattened into mush!”

Of course Zhengting would make friends with the only person who talks as much as he does.

“Justin, shut the fuck up and breathe,” Xingjie says. “Ziyi, I would apologize but they say that you knew Zhengting from before, so.” He shrugs.

Justin’s face suddenly shifts, eyes narrowing. “Oh yeah,” he says in a sly tone. “You and Zhengting were pretty close, huh? You have to tell me _all_ about it.”

Ziyi’s trying to figure out how to say, _Not really, he’s just always been stupidly in love with Xukun and I’ve just been…there_ , when Justin whines “Sit dowwwnnn,” again. “You have to tell us before he gets out of the shower, so you can get all the embarrassing details.”

Ziyi hesitantly examines a suspicious white stain on the couch.

“That’s just mayonnaise,” Xingjie says, leaning against the wall. His mouth lifts into a smirk. “Or maybe cum.”

Ziyi chokes, and Justin goes into hysterics. “Oh God, I’m kidding,” Xingjie says. “It’s mayo, I swear. We had Subway last night.”

“I think I’ll just wait on Zhengting’s bed,” Ziyi says carefully.

“Fair warning,” Chengcheng says, flopping over to grin at Ziyi. “The stains on there are _definitely_ not mayo.”

-

“You said _what????_ ” Zhengting shrieks when he gets out of the shower, hands flying up to spasm at his head. “I cannot _believe_ that, you nasty-ass, Ronal-McDonald-head twerp. I’m going to shove a bar of soap in your mouth.” He has a face mask and blue bathrobe on. Ziyi’s starting to feel really overdressed in his leather jacket.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Chengcheng yells out from behind Justin’s locked door. They both break out into obnoxiously loud giggles.

Zhengting lets out a particularly long groan, sounding like a deflated balloon. He slumps into his chair defeatedly. “Don’t listen to a single thing anyone around here says, Ziyi. Except Jie-ge. He’s smart.”

“Get out while you can,” Xingjie says, stuffing his mouth with a donut.

 _Jie-ge._ “You’re older?” Ziyi asks.

“Yeah. I’m a junior. Not enough upperclassmen housing though, and I must’ve been an real piece of shit in my past life, because I got assigned to live with these two.” Xingjie ignores Zhengting’s affronted “ _Hey!”_ “I used to have nice, normal roommates. We had _rules_ about having other people over. We made a schedule for kitchen and trash duty,” he says wistfully, as he licks the icing from his fingers.

“You love us,” Zhengting says. “We keep your life interesting. Plus, I helped tidy your room that one time.”

“You moved my charger somewhere and I still haven’t found it.”

“Semantics,” Zhengting huffs, before turning to Ziyi. “See what I have to deal with? I’m _so_ glad you’re here, Ziyi. You actually understand me for who I am. A big-hearted, loving, funny, and kind person who always gives so much more than he gets.”

Zhengting’s delusional. “Yeah,” Ziyi says. “I remember the time you pitched a fit for like a week because I ate the last cherry popsicle. _In my fridge_.”

Xingjie snickers while Zhengting starts sputtering, causing his face mask to slip down. His forehead is all shiny and flushed from the shower, or maybe the conversation. It looks soft. Ziyi wonders if it’s because Zhengting’s been using face masks since Korea, or if his skin’s always been like that, and then firmly kills that train of thought before it goes anywhere else.

Justin’s bedroom door clicks open, and Justin and Chengcheng pile out, apparently judging the situation to be safe now. They pull out chairs at the kitchen table, twin smirks on their face.

“So,” Chengcheng says. “Speaking of old memories. What else do you remember about Zhengting?”

“Uh,” Ziyi says cautiously, wondering if it’s possible to make it out of this conversation unscathed. “He was…small. And thin. And short.”

“Okay, I think we’ve established that point, moving on,” Zhengting says stiffly, face red under the mask.

“He was loud,” Ziyi hedges.

“Check,” says Justin.

“He talked too much.”

“Check,” says Chengcheng.

Zhengting is giving him death glares. Ziyi scrabbles for something else to say that’s safe. “We used to dance together. Practice, I mean. He was the one who introduced me to it.” A sudden question pops into his mind, and he looks at Zhengting. “You’re still doing it, right? Dancing?”

He realizes it’s been two years with no contact. Two years, and he’s sitting in front of an entirely different Zhengting, one with the face of a runway model and lots of new friends that Ziyi doesn’t know. Zhengting has new interests. He could have stopped dancing. He could be into _fencing_ now, for all Ziyi knows.

“Yeah,” Zhengting says, and his face softens. “Of course. It’s my major, after all.”

A wave of relief hits Ziyi. He can’t imagine it, Zhengting without dancing. _Another thing that hasn’t changed_ , he thinks, as Xukun’s face suddenly flashes through his mind.

“It’s his _life_ , after all,” Xingjie mimics. “He only stays in the studio every night practicing until 3 am.”

“Good,” Ziyi says. “Not the 3 am part, I mean. It’s good that you’re still dancing. I am, too.” God, he can’t even string a coherent sentence together. Why did he ever think coming over was a good idea?

“Well, duh,” Zhengting rolls his eyes. “You didn’t have to tell me that. The way you move, you were practically _born_ for it. Also, I found your channel.”

“You _what_?” His audience is still tiny; he had no idea how Zhengting found him.

“It’s not like I looked you up or anything,” Zhengting says defensively. He’s suddenly very interested in examining the wood grains of the table. “I just, you know, stumbled across it, as you do on YouTube. Discovery, and all that. I was looking for new dance videos. You’re good, but you need a better camera.” He stuffs a large chunk of donut in his mouth.

“You’re really good!” Justin echoes. “We binged, like, eight of your videos all at once. Can you show me how to do the move where you look like a starfish spinning in the air?”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Zhengting says. “New topic of conversation. You need to talk more, Ziyi. How have you been? What’s new? Et cetera, et cetera. Besides the obvious, I mean,” he waggles his eyebrows, glancing over the hickey on Ziyi’s neck from two nights ago.

Oh God. “I go out for _one night_ , and I get shit over and over again from you,” Ziyi says mournfully.

Zhengting frowns. “Not a girlfriend, then? You didn’t use to do hookups.”

Ziyi forgets that Zhengting knew him as the starry-eyed kid who would bend over backwards for Hudan, who couldn’t sleep the whole night after their first kiss because he kept replaying it in his head. Who carried notions of romance in his heart like something precious.

“Yeah, well,” Ziyi shrugs, suddenly very conscious of everyone else at the table. Justin’s listening in on this topic with unnerving intensity. Ziyi’s pretty sure he’s not breathing. “You know how it goes.”

Zhengting’s brow is still furrowed when Justin says, “Okay, we’ve all caught up. Now let’s cut the shit. We know why you’re here, Ziyi. We have to formulate a game plan.”

Xingjie gets up immediately, pushing his chair back with a loud screech. “Nope, I’m out of here. I’ve been hearing way too much about this shit over the past few days.” He points at Ziyi. “Nice to meet you. But you should definitely head off before these idiots tell you what they’ve been planning.”

“Justin,” Zhengting hisses. “ _Don’t you dare start again._ ”

Justin ignores him. “You,” he points at Ziyi, “are going to be our secret weapon in Operation: Woo Cai Xukun.”

“We’re also trying to figure out a cool acronym for it, so we’re open to any suggestions you have in mind,” Chengcheng adds.

Zhengting shoots out of his chair. This face mask slips to the floor. “Shut up, you two, I _despise_ you both. Ziyi, that’s _not_ why I asked you here, okay, can you guys please just leave – ” He’s abruptly shut up by Chengcheng shoving a hand over his mouth.

Justin talks loudly over Zhengting’s muffled protests while Chengcheng holds him down. “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve suffered, Ziyi. All I heard about in Korea was ‘Kun this’ and ‘Kun that’. And now I finally meet the infamous Cai Xukun in person and he goes to our university and it’s _perfect_ , really. This is Zhengting’s time, I can feel it. You gotta help us, please please pleeeeeaaaase!”

Ziyi cannot believe this is happening. He should have spent the day studying. Locked in his room. Very far away from everyone.

“Justin’s got this syndrome where he thinks everyone’s life is a romcom,” Chengcheng explains, narrowly avoiding one of Zhengting’s flailing limbs. “He’s convinced that we’re going to help Zhengting woo Xukun through a series of kooky adventures and friendly banter while ‘Kiss Me’ plays in the background.”

“I love Sixpence None the Richer,” Justin says, solemnly nodding his head.

Zhengting finally manages to tear Chengcheng’s hand from his mouth. “First of all,” he pants at Justin, “you’re an embarrassment. You’re trying to be a rapper, you can’t be listening to an alt Christian rock band. Second of all,” he turns to Chengcheng and exaggeratedly swipes his hand over his mouth. “Wash your hands. They smell like salami. Third of all, we’re leaving.” He grabs Ziyi roughly by the arm, which, _ow_ , and marches them out of the dorm, slamming the door behind them.

“Great to see you again! Come back soon!” He hears Justin yell through the closed door as Zhengting marches them down the hallway.

“Um,” Ziyi says, “Zhengting. You’re still in your bathrobe.”

Zhengting doesn’t slow down. They go down the stairs and step into the August heat. It’s Sunday morning, but there’s still a fair amount of people outside, and they get a number of strange looks. Zhengting pulls them to a nearby bench and then crumples onto it, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. His cheeks are flushed a deep red. Despite everything, Ziyi feels his heart give a small tug. He sits down carefully next to Zhengting.

“Out of all of the possible worst-case scenarios in the world, that had to be the _actual_ worst case,” Zhengting says, staring at the ground resolutely.

Ziyi shifts uncomfortably. He’s had no idea what’s been going on ever since he stepped foot into Zhengting’s apartment, but it’s clear that Zhengting is out of his comfort zone too. Now that they’re alone, without any other distractions, it’s obvious that Zhengting looks impossibly embarrassed.

“I caught on egg on fire this morning. Nearly burned the place down,” Ziyi says suddenly, and it’s so completely random and unexpected that he wants to smack himself.

Zhengting snorts, though, and that makes the tension in Ziyi’s shoulders ease a little. “Not surprised, you’ve always been a shitty cook.”

“Like you’re any better. I saw the number of takeout boxes at your place.”

Zhengting groans. “Do you see the filth that I live in? I can’t stand it, it drives me crazy.”

“Yeah, right,” Ziyi retorts, and it’s starting to feel easier, now, when it’s just the two of them. “Remember how you could barely ever see the floor in your room? And the inside of your backpack was always an explosion of papers and books? You’ve always been a pig.”

Zhengting shoves him. “You finally see me again after two years, and this is how you treat me? I used to think you were a gentleman, Ziyi.”

Ziyi laughs, and then once he starts he keeps going. “Your roommates are batshit crazy, you know.”

“Fuck you,” Zhengting says, but he’s laughing too. “Justin’s an actual nightmare, and it’s all Xingjie and I can do to try to keep him in line. And then there’s Chengcheng, who’s practically moved in and made my life a living hell. And don’t even get me started on everyone else on that wall. I’m going to go gray before I’m thirty.”

Oh, yeah. The serial-killer wall. “Why do you have a picture of the fry cook from that waffles place on there?”

Zhengting perks up. “Oh, Zeren? You know him? Doesn’t he make the BEST chicken-fried waffles ever? I absolutely _adore_ him. He’s one of my best kids.”

Ziyi takes a second to unpack that sentence. “Zhengting,” he says with admirable restraint. “How many…kids do you have?”

Zhengting pauses guiltily. “…Five. Soon to be six, once Wenjun accepts his fate and unblocks me.”

 _Oh my god_. “Oh my god,” Ziyi says. “What the actual fuck are you doing.” How is it possible that Zhu Zhengting has six minions after just a week of school.

“I couldn’t help it,” Zhengting says defensively. “Justin followed me here, so I can’t shake him off no matter how bad I want too. Chengcheng’s an absolute idiot but he literally saved me and Justin from the most embarrassing death ever and he gives good massages. Plus his sister’s, like, a famous actress, so I’m really just using him for his connections. Zeren feeds us food straight from the heavens. Xinchun, Quanzhe, and Wenjun live down the hall, and they throw killer parties. And then we all just kind of became a family.” He tilts his head back, closes his eyes against the breeze. “You should meet them all. Except when they’re nice and not evil. Which is never.”

Ziyi thinks about the serial killer wall, about the red threads of yarn connecting all of those boys together. He’s never met any of Zhengting’s other friends before, he realizes. The entire concept has always been a vague haze in his mind. But now it’s solidified – he’s seen the proof in Justin and Chengcheng and Xingjie and their wall, and it feels strange, seeing Zhengting interact with others who aren’t him or Xukun.

“Hey,” Zhengting says, and Ziyi realizes he hasn’t spoken in a while. “Justin was being stupid, back there. That whole – that thing with Kun, that’s _not_ why I asked you over. He’s such a nosy asshole, and I talked about Kun a bit more than I should have in Korea because I never thought Justin would actually meet him, so he knows way more than he should. But I wouldn’t use you like that, or ever ask you to…” he trails off uncomfortably.

Ziyi looks at Zhengting, looking ridiculous wrapped in his blue bathrobe, with his big eyes staring into Ziyi’s. He still can’t believe this is Zhengting’s face. Parts of it are achingly familiar, but as a whole, it’s still miles off from how Ziyi remembers him. It feels kind of like walking into your home to find that all the furniture’s been rearranged. Ziyi’s still trying to find his footing.

He thinks about tiny fifth-grader Zhengting ringing the doorbell after a summer in France, running over to see Xukun as soon as they got back. Sticking out his bright blue tongue, no care in the world. Thinks about love, and the possibility of it. How those threads that make relationships can start to form.

“I’ll help you,” he says, and it even surprises himself a bit.

Zhengting eyes him warily. “What are you talking about?”

“With Xukun, I mean,” Ziyi says. “I’ll help you, you know, learn how to interact with him like a normal person.”

Zhengting gives him the most incredulous look. “Oh my God,” he says slowly. “You…what are you even saying?”

“Look,” says Ziyi, ignoring this weird feeling in his gut. Fuck this, Zhengting’s been hung up on Xukun for his entire life, and it’s time something gives. He can’t just go on living the rest of his life like this, all weird and pining and… _lonely._ “You went to Korea for two years. Took some magic growth serum, whatever. But it didn’t work, right? You’re still in love with him. Let me…try and help. I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh my God,” Zhengting says again, ever slower. He blinks rapidly a few times, rubs his eyes. “You are actually the best person I know.”

“It’s not a huge deal, I’ll just drop in a word here and there and leave the room when you come over.”

“Let me kiss the ground you walk on,” says Zhengting. “Are you serious? You’re gonna talk to Kun about me? Set up times for us to hang out?” It’s sinking in now, and he starts bouncing up and down now, hands slamming down on the bench. “How are you real? I’m going to bake you a cake. I want you to give me away at our wedding. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“It’s not really a big deal,” Ziyi says weakly, less convinced than he was ten seconds ago. The churning in his stomach has ramped up a few notches now. It’s fine. It’s not a mistake. Zhengting deserves to be happy, and Xukun… he’ll deal with that later. “Really. Can you stop…doing that?”

“I can’t help it!” Zhengting says, squirming uncontrollably like he’s been electrocuted. “I’m feeling so much right now I can’t contain it. You can’t just spring something like this on me.”

“Lesson number one: no doing that in front of Xukun,” Ziyi says, and Zhengting stops immediately. “Oh, thank God. Okay, we can start off small. Text me some times you’re free this week, and I’ll see if he wants to hang out.”

“YES!” Zhengting nearly explodes, and a flock of pigeons squawk and startle out from behind a tree. “Oh my God, we have to plan this out to a T. It’s going to be perfect, it’s going to be absolutely amazing.”

“Food first,” Ziyi decides firmly. He feels a headache coming on. “This is a weird enough topic, and I can’t talk to you about it over an empty stomach.”

-

Zhengting goes back to change into proper clothes before they go out again. It’s a whole ordeal that involves him shoving Ziyi behind a trash can to make sure Justin and Chengcheng don’t pounce on him again.

They end up at Ruibin’s waffle place. For both of them, it’s their second time there in as many days. As they make their way to an empty booth, Ziyi spots a familiar face. “Yanchen,” he greets as they pass by his RA.

Yanchen looks up, megawatt smile gracing his features before he attempts to school them into a stern expression. “Don’t play cute with me now, Ziyi. It took us fifteen minutes to switch off that fire alarm this morning.”

 _Oh yeah._ “It was an accident,” Ziyi says sheepishly. “We didn’t mean to.”

Yanchen manages a weak glare for about two more seconds before he breaks. “I can never stay mad at you guys,” he says, reluctantly smiling. “Stay out of the kitchen from now on, though.”

He’s never going to live this down. It was _Xukun’s_ egg, but that detail apparently always gets left out. “Yeah, never cooking again. Got it,” he says, ducking his head down in embarrassment.

“Sooo you’re an RA, huh?” Zhengting butts in, eyes strangely bright. He leans down. “Come here every Thursday and Sunday? Short-stack of blueberry pancakes with extra whipped cream?”

“Um,” Yanchen says. “Do you work here or something?”

“I have connections,” Zhengting says sweetly, before Ziyi forcibly drags them to their booth.

“Why are you like this.” It’s not a question.

“Listen, that’s _totally_ Zeren’s lover boy! He’s been coming here all throughout the summer, you know how RAs work over break, and Zeren is literally ass-backwards crushing on him. He won’t admit it, but they’re going to be married by the time the semester is over. I’m totally calling it.”

“I can’t believe this,” Ziyi mutters. “You just finished complaining about how much you hate Justin for always meddling in your love life. Turns out you taught him everything he knows.”

“Shut up!” Zhengting scowls. “Like you have room to talk. You’re literally planning mine out for me.”

“Ugh. I’m not planning out your _love life_ , I’m just trying to help you seem normal around Xukun.”

“Who I’m in love with,” Zhengting adds cheerfully.

Right. This is probably a very fucking bad idea.

“There have to be rules,” Ziyi says. “No telling him. I _mean_ it, I know you have no brain-to-mouth filter, but this doesn’t get out.”

“Got it.” Zhengting bobs his head. “What else.”

“No wearing bathrobes in public.” Ziyi thinks for a second, then adds, “No getting yourself even more hurt over him.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “You can’t just add that as a rule, Ziyi. I can take care of myself, I’ll be fine.”

Ziyi definitely does not think about Zhengting sobbing his heart out on his couch in seventh grade while _Sex and the City_ played in the background. Doesn’t think about how powerless he felt, stroking Zhengting’s hair as he listened to the _hitch-hitch-hitching_ of his breath.

“Okay,” he says, instead of thinking of all that, and the waitress comes around. She’s cute, high ponytail and carefully manicured nails. She cheerfully rattles off their house specials, smiling sweetly. After they order, she blushes, nudging Ziyi’s shoulder as she tells him to _let me know if there’s anything else at all I can get for you._

“Wow,” Zhengting says when she leaves. “I keep forgetting. The effect that you have on girls, now.”

“Can we not,” Ziyi says, already resigning himself to this conversation.

“No, I’m serious. When Justin and I saw you yesterday, I did a double take. You were always, you know…” Zhengting frowns as he makes a vague and overly complicated gesture. “Tall. But now you’re all jawlines and hair and leather jackets. And hickeys.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ziyi says, and then stops when he realizes he can’t just say something like _Actually, you’re really fucking good-looking now, what the fuck._

“Yeah, well,” Zhengting shrugs. It’s weird. There’s none of that bravado that Ziyi expected to see, none of Zhengting’s smirks or _I told you so_ ’s. “It’s still not enough, so.”

Ziyi clears his throat, not liking the forlorn looks that’s settled on Zhengting’s face. “Anyways. You wanted to plan this out to a T, right?”

They spend the next two hours at the waffle shop, mapping out sticky syrup diagrams on their waffles. Zhengting inhales his entire short stack, and half of Ziyi’s as well. Then he gets syrup on his sweater sleeve, and Ziyi swears his eyes start to actually _tear up_ before Ziyi hurriedly shoves some napkins into his lap.

He’s surprised when he checks his phone and realize how much time has passed. He should really get back and start studying again.

He doesn’t say anything.

At some point Zhengting says, “Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot!” and shoves a crumpled-up flyer into his hands.

“What’s this?” Ziyi squints as he tries in vain to smooth out the crinkly paper and read the text. 

“Dance auditions!” Zhengting says. “For the school team, next Wednesday at eight. You’re going. No arguments or excuses allowed.” He checks the time on his phone. “Shit, I have to meet my art history group in ten. I’ll text you, Wang Ziyi!”

Ziyi watches him jog out the door, bouncing ridiculously, like a kid who’s just grown into some new gangly limbs and doesn’t know how to move them properly. Yet somehow, as soon as Zhengting dances, he turns into the most graceful being in the world, all fluid movements and breathtaking visuals. Who would’ve thought.

His chest feels strangely warm.

-

Xukun’s out when Ziyi gets back to the dorm, which gives him plenty of time to flop down on his bed, run everything through in his head, and decide to regret all the choices he’s made today. He shouldn’t have gone over to Zhengting’s today. _Definitely_ shouldn’t have encouraged his obsession with Xukun, what the fuck. It’s just, Ziyi feels like he can’t think straight around Zhengting. In some ways, it’s kind of like how it was before. Zhengting talks so much and is constantly fidgeting and it throws Ziyi off, makes him act in ways he wouldn’t normally. But now he’s somehow even more distracting with his hair in his eyes and his long, long fingers that never stop tapping, and his _mouth_ which never stops _moving._

Ziyi lets out a long, drawn-out groan. What is he even doing with his life. He has a chemistry quiz tomorrow.

“Broooo,” he hears as the door opens and Xukun rushes in, flushed and sweaty.

 _Oh yeah, basketball tryouts were today_ , Ziyi remembers, and instantly forgets about all of his worries. He instantly sits up, already smiling in anticipation. “So, what’s the verdict?” Ziyi probes.

Xukun grins and spreads out his arms. “Guess who made the team.”

“Bro!” Ziyi exclaims, rising to hug Xukun. “What did I tell you? I knew you would make it.”

“Barely,” Xukun’s smile is splitting his face right open. “Cuts were pretty intense.”

“Whatever,” Ziyi says, pushing his grin into Xukun’s shoulder. “Haohao’s going to be insufferable now. He’ll hold up giant glittery signs at all of your games.”

“Like you won’t be cheering right along with him.” Xukun lets out a bright laugh. “Fuck. I can’t believe I actually made it.”

“’Course you did,” Ziyi says firmly. “Never doubted it.”

“You know this means you’re going to have to practice with me now. Just because you’re a big-shot b-boyer doesn’t mean you can let your defense skills waste away.” Xukun squeezes him, tight, before sitting down on the bed, pulling off his jersey. “But we can talk more about that later. What’d you do today?”

Aaaaand Ziyi’s back to regretting everything. He debates whether he should tell the truth or not, then wonders why he’s even hesitating. This is Xukun. “Hung out with Zhengting,” he says, albeit carefully.

“Really?” Xukun says. “Did you guys practice dance or something?”

“We just kind of…caught up.”

“That’s nice,” says Xukun. “Zhengzheng’s such a sweet kid.”

 _Here goes nothing_. Ziyi clears his throat awkwardly, feeling like the worst kind of creep. “Not really a kid anymore though, huh?”

Xukun laughs. “I know right? Did you see his growth spurt? I think he might even be taller than me, now.”

“I barely recognized him when he called my name yesterday.”

“Yeah. He looks like a totally different person, right? It’s so weird. Tiny little Zhengzheng.” Xukun closes his eyes and lays on the bed.

Ziyi wonders if it would be too weird to ask if Xukun notices the other stuff, too. The stuff that stayed the same. The nose and eyebrows and restless fingers. “Are you glad he’s back?” Ziyi asks instead.

“Hmm? Yeah, of course. This is such a good school. And he looks really happy, too.”

Okay. Enough build-up. Time to pop the big question. “Zhengting said he was free this Saturday. Would you want to hang out? Catch up or something?”

Xukun barely misses a beat. “Yeah, sounds fun. Where do you want to go?”

Ziyi swallows back a sudden sour taste in his mouth. “Well, I actually have lab that night, so I won’t be free. But it’d be nice to hang out with Zhengting anyways, right?”

That’s when Xukun sits up, looking Ziyi in the eye. His brow is furrowed, but he doesn’t look angry. Just contemplative. For a second, Ziyi is sure Xukun’s going to press further and call him on his bullshit.

He doesn’t. “It actually would,” Xukun says finally. “It’s been kind of quiet without him here for the past two years. Yeah, I’ll text him.”

Ziyi lets out a breath. His work is done.

-

The day before dance auditions, Ziyi finds himself in a practice room with Zhengting.

“Technically, first-years aren’t supposed to use these rooms after five,” Zhengting had whispered, hot breath tickling Ziyi’s ear, as they snuck into an empty practice room. “But I pulled some strings.” Ziyi doesn’t even want to know.

They’re stretching now, warming up before they start. Zhengting says he has a routine he’s been working on that Ziyi just _has_ to see. “I’m gonna use it for the audition, which, you know, is _tomorrow_ , so if it’s shit don’t tell me.”

“It’s not going to be shit, Zhengting.” Zhengting may have been away for two years, but Ziyi’s seen him dance for longer than that. There’s no way he’s not getting onto that dance team.

Zhengting scoffs. “Not like you have to worry. You’re good now, Ziyi. Like, really _really_ good. When are you going to feature me on your channel?”

“Learn to do a windmill and I’ll collab with you,” Ziyi retorts.

“You actually want me to die, huh?”

They continue warming up in silence for a few minutes. Ziyi’s finishing stretching out his arms when Zhengting says, “By the way, what are you even studying? I can’t believe I don’t know. What kind of a love disciple am I?”

“Stop calling yourself that,” Ziyi groans. “Biology. My entire college career is basically Quizlets and rote memorization.”

Zhengting’s eyes widen playfully. “Whoa. Look at you. You’re such an intellectual. Are you going to be a surgeon or something? Dr. McDreamy?”

“Nah,” Ziyi says, reaching for his toes. “Not planning on going down that route. I want to go to physical therapy school after I get my bachelor’s, and then open up my own practice. Nothing too big, but, you know. I can help people who have been hurt. That’s what I want to do.”

Zhengting doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Ziyi looks up from his stretches, and Zhengting’s watching him with the weirdest expression on his face. It’s strangely soft, and it’s definitely not a look that Zhengting’s ever directed at him before.

“What?” Ziyi says, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Zhengting says. “It just makes sense. You’re good at that. Helping hurt people.”

Ziyi hesitates, unsure what to say to that. Thankfully, the moment doesn’t last long. Zhengting jumps up from the floor, shaking out his limbs. “Okay. I want to show you now. Hold onto your socks.” He presses a button on the remote and then tosses it to Ziyi, winking obnoxiously.

The music starts, and Ziyi swallows back his retort. As soon as the first note plays, Zhengting’s entire demeanor instantly transforms. He drops into a perfect split before swinging his back leg up and leaping into the routine. Somehow, he makes it look impossibly easy. He makes it look impossibly beautiful.

Ziyi’s always been kind of fascinated by Zhengting’s duality. There’s crazy, blabbering, can’t-stop-fidgeting-for-the-life-of-him Zhengting, and then there’s Zhengting the dancer. Zhengting has all of this energy, and it’s normally scattered and overwhelming. But when it’s focused like this, on dancing and dancing alone, Zhengting moves in a way that’s so gorgeous it almost hurts. It’s a different kind of quiet intensity that bowls you over. It renders Ziyi speechless.

The music stops far too soon, and Zhengting uncurls from his position on the floor, breathing heavily. “Well?” He says, face expectant and open.

Ziyi tries to school his expression into something that’s not dumbstruck wonder. He’s pretty sure he fails miserably. “Yeah, it’s pretty shit if you ask me,” he says. “Probably going to have to change up that whole routine. Maybe add in a windmill or two.”

“You are such a _dick_ , Wang Ziyi,” Zhengting whines, but he can’t fight back the smile stretching across his face. “Fine. Let’s see what you got then.”

Ziyi scrolls through his phone until he finds the song he wants. Heavy bass fills the room. He closes his eyes and breathes in, savoring this second right before he jumps into the dance. This is when his muscles are coiled in glorious anticipation and anything is possible. This, right here. This is where he’s at home.

He counts to eight in his head, and then he moves.

-

They both make the team. When they get the email, Zhengting calls him when he’s still in class. Ziyi tries to answer the call discreetly, but Zhengting starts screaming as soon as he picks up and doesn’t stop for a full minute. Ziyi has to hastily run out of his lecture, cheeks flaming, and his professor glares daggers at him for the rest of class. It’s totally worth it. He’s buzzing for the rest of the day, floating on some kind of high that he never even got from smoking. Xukun nearly tackles him to the floor when he hears. Haohao makes them zhajiangmian to celebrate. After dinner, they pile onto the couch and turn on the TV.

Xukun’s flipping through channels aimlessly when he says, “The basketball team’s having a party this weekend. You guys have to come.”

Ziyi grins, still high off of his acceptance. “’Course.”

“Can I bring some of my team members?” asks Haohao.

“Definitely,” says Xukun. “Open invite. Bring whoever you want.” He looks at Ziyi. “I told Zhengzheng that, too. Think he’s going to bring some of his friends. Then we can probably hang out the day after.”

“Oh,” Ziyi says, suddenly alert. “That’s good. I’m sure he’s glad.”

“He responded with a very enthusiastic block of text about ten lines long. All caps lock.”

Sounds exactly like Zhengting. “You probably gave him a heart attack.”

Xukun snorts, shaking his head fondly. “He’s such a funny kid.”

Haohao scowls. “How come I haven’t met this infamous Zhengting yet? He’s basically all you guys ever talk about anymore.”

That’s not true. That can’t be true.

“Awww, Haohao,” Xukun ruffles his hair. “Is someone feeling a little jealous?”

Haohao looks unimpressed.

“Come to the party,” Xukun says. “He’ll be there.”

-

The party’s at a huge house, and the music is thumping so loud when they arrive that they can hear it from a block away. “A bunch of guys on the team live here together!” Xukun shouts over the music as they trek across the lawn, stepping carefully to avoid broken beer bottles in the grass. “So at this point it’s basically our unofficial house.”

Solo cups are pushed into their hands as soon as they enter the door, and Ziyi downs the alcohol in about a minute before reaching for another. He always has to be pretty plastered to enjoy parties like these. The house is absolutely _packed,_ bodies pushing and shoving against each other as drunk college kids sway to the beat.

Xukun grabs his hand, tugging him along until they find a bunch of people from the team. Ziyi catches a few names over the pounding music. A guy with a booming voice who towers over everyone called Bu Fan. A kid with a mischievous grin and dreadlocks called Xiao Gui. Someone with a bandana who can’t stop smiling called Shengen. Ziyi even spots Xingjie jumping around the room with Xiao Gui and already a few drinks into the night, if his glossy eyes and flushed face are anything to go by.

“Are you on the team?” Ziyi asks, bemused, as Xingjie pulls him into a sloppy hug.

“You're goddamn right! Ball is life, fucker!” Xingjie screams, before Xiao Gui cackles wildly and attempts to pour an entire carton of boxed wine down his throat.

Xukun’s been swallowed up by the crowd by now, and Ziyi leans against the wall. He knows how to do this, knows how to go out into a dance floor and just let himself _move_ , knows how to curl an arm around a girl and slot her against his body. But he’s been feeling off the whole night. He tells himself it’s because Haohao and his acapella friends haven’t got here yet, and he wants to make sure that they can find the place okay, but he suspects with a sinking feeling that he’s looking for someone else entirely.

God, what if Zhengting gets absolutely trashed? Can he handle his liquor? Has he even ever _drank_ before? There’s so much stuff Ziyi doesn’t know. What if he tells Xukun everything? Ziyi’s never kept a secret like this before from Xukun, and the guilt is starting to eat him up inside. The what-ifs keep running through his mind. He can’t focus on the music, can’t focus on the people around him, and when a girl sidles up to him and says, “Hey,” he smiles apologetically and excuses himself.

He pushes through crowds of people, attempting to find a place where he can just clear his mind and calm down for a second. He goes through the first door he sees and ends up in a kitchen. It’s huge and brightly lit. Ziyi leans against the counter and takes a deep breath. He blames the second ( _or was it third?_ ) cup of punch for him not immediately noticing there’s someone else in the room.

But there is someone else there. He’s humming softly, shuffling from side to side, as he stands over a boiling pot. _What the fuck_.

Ziyi shuffles over. “Bro,” he says. “Are you hard-boiling eggs right now?”

“I’ve got cravings,” the other boy shrugs. “Can’t help it.”

Ziyi’s stomach decides to take that as a cue to growl extremely loudly. The boy cocks his head towards it, as if to say _I told you so._

Screw it. He’s drunk and hungry. “Can I have one?”

“Sharing is caring,” grins the boy.

As they peel the steaming eggs, Ziyi learns that his name is Jeffrey. He’s a power forward on the team, and he lives here ("two doors down from the bathroom with the jacuzzi"). He eats eggs every single morning. He’s also Jackie Chan’s nephew.

“ _Dude_ ,” Ziyi says, wonderstruck. “I loved him in _Shanghai Noon_.”

“That’s a new one,” says Jeffrey. “Everyone else always says _Rush Hour_ or _Karate Kid_. Maybe _Kung Fu Panda_ , if they’re feeling adventurous.”

“Have you ever been in anything?”

Jeffrey flushes, suddenly. “One drama,” he says. “The acting was really, really bad. I don’t want to talk about it.” He hands Ziyi another egg.

Before long, they get through all the eggs. Ziyi’s feeling pleasantly full now, and a bit more grounded. He wonders if he should go out and see if Zhengting’s here when Jeffrey asks, “Wanna smoke?”

_Oh._

They squeeze out into the crowd again, which has only gotten larger, and Jeffrey leads him up two flights of stairs and through an inconspicuous door onto a balcony.

“This is where I normally read and study,” Jeffrey says as he pulls out a lighter. “It’s always dusty as hell, no matter how often I clean, but it’s nice to get fresh air, you know?”

Ziyi rests his sweaty forehead against the blissfully cool window. “Yeah. I know.”

They pass the joint back and forth between them for a bit. Jeffrey’s nice and cool, once you get past the whole egg thing, and he hasn’t probed Ziyi at all for anything about his life. That, along with the alcohol and weed rolling through is system, is probably why Ziyi says, “One of my…one of my friends is in love with my brother.” He ignores how he trips up over the word “friends”.

Jeffrey lets out a low whistle. “Shit. Xukun?”

“Yeah.” Ziyi inhales deeply from the joint, holds his breath until it burns. “He doesn’t know, so don’t, you know. Tell him. And my friend…he’s so set on him that I don’t know how this can possibly end well.”

Jeffrey exhales a breath full of smoke, and they both watch as it stretches up up _up_ into the night and curls around the moon. A lover’s caress. “The shittiest thing about life,” Jeffrey says, “is that it’s not a romcom.”

“Yeah,” Ziyi sighs. “We’d all be so much happier if we were living in _Love, Actually_.”

“That movie’s a masterpiece,” agrees Jeffrey.

The party music’s dulled to a low roar in his ears, and Ziyi feels a bit like he’s floating. He loves this, loves the high he gets after a nice joint. Especially when it’s mixed with alcohol. Him and Jeffrey continue to talk about other movies and nothing and everything, and he keeps watching those little wisps of smoke disappear into the night. It’s beautiful, he decides. Something about the way it moves, quietly intense and so gorgeous it almost hurts. It reminds him of someone.

Suddenly, the door opens, and the music from inside blares out, startling Jeffrey so bad he almost drops the joint. They turn around, and Ziyi’s stomach gives a funny lurch when he sees Zhengting, hair mussed and face flushed. He’s leaning heavily at the door, and Ziyi wonders if he drank too much.

“You.” Zhengting points an unsteady finger at him, and he’s _definitely_ drank too much. “I was looking for you.”

“Found me,” Ziyi says, mouth suddenly dry.

“Jeffrey,” Jeffrey says, tilting his head.

“Nice to meet you,” Zhengting says half-heartedly, his eyes locked on Ziyi. “What are you doing?” His eyes narrow as he spots the joint in Jeffrey’s hand.

 _Please, God_ , Ziyi thinks. _Don’t make him lecture me right now. I can’t handle it._

“Are you smoking?” Zhengting asks, and his voice sounds strange. It doesn’t sound shrill or affronted, though, just…off.

Ziyi blinks and tries to clear the fog in his mind that he was savoring just a minute ago. “When did you get here?”

“Over an hour ago. I came with everyone else.”

 _Everyone else_ , Ziyi thinks, and wonders who that includes. He’s definitely not bitter. “Oh. Did you see Xukun?”

“Yeah. I talked to Kun for a bit. He’s pretty gone, too.” At this moment, Zhengting sways dangerously, and Ziyi almost moves to steady him before he realizes how ridiculous that would be. “I thought you would be there, too,” Zhengting frowns.

“I am,” Ziyi says, confused.

“No,” Zhengting says, frustration coloring his tone. “I mean, I thought you would be _there_. Like, with Xukun or downstairs or dancing with _some girl_ or something when I came in. I looked and looked for you and I didn’t think you’d be out _here_ smoking with...with…”

“Jeffrey,” Jeffrey says helpfully, taking another drag.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ziyi says, and he doesn’t mean for it to come off badly, but it must, because Zhengting’s face shutters closed and Ziyi’s chest twists unpleasantly.

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll leave you two alone then. Bye.” Zhengting’s voice sounds tight, strained, and Ziyi can’t figure out for the life of him what he did wrong. Xukun’s here. Zhengting’s here. That should make him happy enough, right? What the hell does he care if Ziyi’s smoking outside?

“Come on, Zhengting, don’t do that,” Ziyi sighs, too high and drunk and stupid to make out what’s going on. “Just tell me what’s up.”

Zhengting just crosses his arms and looks at him, drunk and still unbearably proud, and doesn’t make a move.

“I think I’ll go now,” says Jeffrey, and he gives Ziyi a lazy two-fingered salute and hands him the remaining half of the joint. “Keep it. I’ll see you around, yeah? Feel free to come by the house whenever. We can watch some of those romcoms we talked about.” He nods at Zhengting, who makes a face like he just sucked on a lemon, and then makes his way back into the house.

It’s just them two now, him and Zhengting on the balcony. Ziyi waits, looking at Zhengting expectantly. Zhengting just stares back.

Ziyi sighs. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all, Zhengting,” he says, as he crosses the balcony to grab Zhengting’s arm. Zhengting lets out an affronted squealing sound, but he lets Ziyi tug him to the railing. “Xukun’s here. You’re here. You’re hanging out tomorrow. Why are you pissed off?”

“I’m not pissed off,” Zhengting says, sounding extremely pissed off. And then the floodgates open. “I just…I had to search a long time for you, okay? It was like no one else even _cared_ where you were and you weren’t with Kun and you weren’t downstairs and I know you could’ve gone home with a girl or something and that would have been fine but you didn’t, and you were _here_ smoking the whole time.” He sets his jaw. “I was here to see you too, you know. Not just Kun.” The declaration hits Ziyi, sinks into him slowly. _Oh_. Zhengting was looking for him. Zhengting wanted to see him.

“I didn’t even know you smoked,” Zhengting adds huffily. “You didn’t use to before.”

The alcohol and weed and Zhengting’s presence is making Ziyi have really, really strange thoughts. Here, underneath the moonlight, on a balcony that feels like an oasis away from the mass of drunken bodies moving inside the house, Ziyi feels unspeakably tender. There’s a small part of him blooming up that wants to keep Zhengting safe, wrap him in a blanket and tuck him away where no one will ever hurt him. It’s one of the weirdest thoughts Ziyi’s had, but he can’t get it out of his head as he watches Zhengting bite his lip.

“I started last year,” he says. “It was just something to do.”

Zhengting is still looking a strange mixture of hurt and annoyed and…something else that Ziyi can’t quite identify. It’s really fucking with him, though, and he needs to wipe that expression off Zhengting’s face. “Do you want to try?” he asks and holds up the joint.

It does the trick. Zhengting startles, and his face is pure, simple shock now. “Try _that_?” He asks. “I mean,” he says, and then stares very intently at the ground, cheeks heating up. “I’ve never smoked before.”

“Do you want to try?” Ziyi repeats, biting back a smile at how fucking _shy_ Zhengting looks all of a sudden.

Zhengting shrugs and doesn’t say anything. He keeps staring at the floor.

“I can give you a blow back,” Ziyi presses. He has no idea where the thought came from, but it’s suddenly the best idea he’s ever had. “It’ll be good, for your first time.”

Zhengting still doesn’t say anything. He twists his mouth and picks at his fingernail.

Zhengting is absolutely ridiculous. Ziyi rolls his eyes. “Hey,” he says, and Zhengting looks up. Ziyi’s breath catches for a second, and he doesn’t even know why. Zhengting’s eyes are just…they’re so goddamn wide right now, and he keeps biting his lip like he’s uncertain and his hair is an absolute _wreck_ from the sweating and dancing and drinking. Under the moonlight, Ziyi catalogues the uncertain slant of his eyebrows. This is _Zhengting_ , he thinks giddily. This is Zhengting, who is weird and loud and obnoxious and obsessed with Xukun, but he’s here with _me_.

“Okay,” Zhengting says, so softly that Ziyi almost misses it.

Ziyi smiles and nudges Zhengting with his shoulder. “It’s a joint, not a death sentence,” he says. “Cheer up.”

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and re-lights the joint. “When I breathe out,” he tells Zhengting. “Inhale a really deep breath and hold it for as long as you can. Far down in your chest. Let it out slowly. Try not to cough.”

Zhengting’s eyes are even wider now, somehow. The uncertainty and fear are still there, but there’s something else, too. _Anticipation_ , Ziyi thinks dangerously.

“Ready?” he asks.

Zhengting tightens the death grip he has on the railing, but he angles his body towards Ziyi. “I trust you,” he says, and the answer makes something in Ziyi uncoil, spreading a deep warmth through his veins.

He is way too drunk for this.

“Come closer,” Ziyi says, and steps into Zhengting’s space. Their hips press against each other, slowly, then all at once. Zhengting’s breath hitches shakily. The trembles spread to the rest of his body. Ziyi curls an arm around Zhengting’s waist and pulls him in closer. It’s a movement he’s done a hundred times before, but it’s nothing at all like when he pulls in a girl. Zhengting’s all hard, flat planes where Ziyi is used to feeling softness and curves. He doesn’t have their flowery perfume and he doesn’t have long hair that brushes against Ziyi’s arms. He’s just Zhengting.

“Don’t be scared,” Ziyi says, and he doesn’t quite know who he’s talking to as he takes a deep drag on the joint. He lets his head tilt down, and his nose brushes against Zhengting’s. He feels Zhengting give a slight nod, and then he exhales slowly.

Zhengting’s hand flutters uselessly, then finds purchase against Ziyi’s neck as he inhales. His chest rises under Ziyi’s, and his eyes slowly close. All Ziyi can hear is the unbearably loud thumping bass of the party, but then he realizes it’s the bump-bump-bumping of his own heart, furious and rapid.

The moment lasts for a small eternity before Zhengting pulls away. _Beautiful_ , Ziyi thinks, and it feels like a sitting under a sunrise, letting the warm rays wash over you. If he’s being honest, it’s not the first time he’s thought it at all.

Then Zhengting pulls back abruptly and sputters and lets out a series of painful sounding coughs, and Ziyi nearly chokes on his sudden laughter. “Stop it!” Zhengting wheezes as he continues to cough the smoke out of his lungs, bent double over the railing. But Ziyi’s riding a high on alcohol and weed and _Zhengting_ , and his entire body convulses with laughter. It takes Zhengting a good minute to finish coughing, and his eyes are watering by the end of it, but he dissolves into laughter too. “You are such an asshole, Wang Ziyi,” he says, in between truly disgusting snorts and giggles. “It’s my _first time_ , you’re supposed to take care of me. Stop laughing – _stop it_. Do it again! I won’t cough this time.”

Ziyi finally stops to catch his breath. The muscles in his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “Again?”

Zhengting juts his chin out at him, stubborn as ever. There’s no uncertainty in his gaze this time. “Again.”

Ziyi takes another drag of the joint, curls his arm around Zhengting and pulls him close. It’s so fucking _easy_ , and when he exhales the smoke, Zhengting breathes in like it’s pure instinct, like he was born to do it.

Zhengting exhales the smoke perfectly this time, no wheezing or hacking or coughing. His eyes are dark and dangerously bright and he looks at Ziyi with some kind of wonder. “Look,” he says, eyes following the smoke as it disappears into the night, and Ziyi thinks _I already was_. “Again,” Zhengting says.

They do it again. And again and again and again and Ziyi watches Zhengting blow smoke into the stars until the joint has died down into a measly stub.

“Last hit,” Ziyi says, forcing back a smile when Zhengting groans. “Come here.”

It’s a weak hit, and Ziyi knows that as soon as he sucks in, but he leans down anyways and breathes out against Zhengting. He’s not sure how much smoke, if any, Zhengting gets, but Zhengting suddenly whispers out “Ziyi”, and he sounds _wrecked_ and it’s so unexpected that Ziyi sways forward and their lips brush against each other.

 _Fuck,_ Ziyi thinks, about to say that it was an accident, but then Zhengting surges up into him and suddenly he isn’t thinking much about anything anymore. His mouth is hot and demanding and it tastes like the shitty punch from downstairs, and Ziyi’s head is spinning because he can’t get enough. He flips them around, presses Zhengting against the railing as he grabs his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer. It’s not enough.

Zhengting makes the softest, sweetest sound in the world, and Ziyi breaks away from him to say, “You are such a fucking headfuck, you know that?” It comes out much fonder than he meant it to. They both panting harshly. Zhengting’s face is so open that Ziyi can barely stand it. He then decides that he _can’t_ stand it and takes Zhengting’s face in his hands and leans down again.

Zhengting honest-to-God _whines_ this time, and it’s so hot, so dirty, so different from anyone else he’s ever had. He thinks he’s going insane. He has no idea what’s going on anymore and he doesn’t care about anything other than the feeling of Zhengting’s mouth against his and the strip of his cheek that’s lit up by the moonlight. Zhengting rolls his hips up into Ziyi, tearing a groan out of his mouth, and he can’t think anything but _again_.

Ziyi curls his tongue against Zhengting’s and thinks _this is it, this is the thread I’ve been looking for_ as he swipes his thumb along Zhengting’s cheek, desperate to touch and feel everything that he can. _Fuck_ , this is Zhengting, it’s the Zhengting who walks into lockers and adopts strangers on campus and dances like a dream and kisses like his life depends on it. It’s Zhengting, and Ziyi never imagined it, but now he doesn’t want to imagine anyone else. Doesn’t want it to be anyone else, because Zhengting _knows_ him. He knew Ziyi as a tiny little fifth grader who was terrified of the unknown and cried at the thought of change. He knew Ziyi when he fell in love for the first time, and he knew Ziyi when he fell out of it. He knew Ziyi at the worst moment of his life and he saw Ziyi get better, even though nothing was the same after that. He knows Ziyi’s passions, understands them better than anybody else because Zhengting’s the only other person in the world who also needs dance like he needs it to breathe. He knows where Ziyi came from and where he wants to go, and most importantly, he knows the gap between the two points. He looks at Ziyi and sees all of him, the past and present and the terrifying unknown future.

 _I know you too_ , thinks Ziyi as his head spins. Zhengting pulls back and pants harshly against his neck, warm puffs of breath that feel like brands. _I think I know you better than anyone._ Zhengting lets out a ragged groan, and Ziyi realizes belatedly that he said the last part aloud.

The door bangs open all of a sudden, and Zhengting scrambles back like he’s been burned. His mouth hangs open in an “o”, shiny and kiss-swollen, and Ziyi’s brain short-circuits. “Cops!” the guy in the doorway screams, and Ziyi vaguely registers him as a member of the basketball team. “Everyone needs to get the _fuck_ out.”

The music is gone, Ziyi realizes. Then he comes back into himself all at once. He feels the effects of the weed and alcohol like a punch, and he staggers, body going stupid. The house is full of screaming sounds as drunk underage college students run out. Ziyi flexes his hands dumbly, not understanding what’s going on. Zhengting’s on the other side of the balcony, chest heaving as he breathes heavily.

“Suck face somewhere else!” The guys screams, at the end of his rope. “Get the fuck out!” He shoves Ziyi and Zhengting inside the house, where it’s absolute mayhem. People are everywhere and it’s too bright and loud. A hand grabs Ziyi’s arm, and it takes a few seconds before he can make out Xukun’s face.

“Ziyi? Ziyi?” He’s practically screaming in Ziyi’s face. “Come _on_ , we have to go.” He drags Ziyi down the stairs, and it’s a miracle that Ziyi doesn’t fall over.

“Zhengting,” Ziyi says dumbly. He’s not here anymore. Ziyi doesn’t know where he went.

“Zeren got him and is taking him home, now let’s _go_ ,” Xukun says firmly, cursing as he drags him out the door. “Shit, it got way too wild here tonight. Where the hell were you? I was searching for, like five minutes. God, we’re so lucky we got out before the cops came.”

Ziyi barely hears him. They’re full-out running now, cutting across the lawn. It’s chaos out here. There’s seemingly hundreds of drunk people running in every possible direction. The sound of sirens is getting louder.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Xukun is cursing as they sprint. Ziyi's too drunk for this and needs to focus on keeping his balance, but he can’t stop replaying in his head the instant when the balcony opened and Zhengting jolted away from him. Can’t make himself forget the look of shock and horror on Zhengting's face, so drunk that his glazed-over eyes couldn't even focus properly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who's ready for the angst


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH UPDATES! life is testing me right now and bitch i ain't study!!!
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/ziyiglows)

Ziyi has made some pretty stupid decisions in his life. When he was a toddler, he sliced his cheek clean open with his dad’s razor and needed stitches. He had cried instantly – not at the pain from the cut, but from the pure heartbreak that anything of his dad’s could hurt him. Then there was his phase in seventh grade when he wore fingerless gloves to school every day. He hates talking about it, but Xukun never hesitates to pull out photographic evidence as blackmail. And then last week he set an _egg_ on fire, for god’s sake.

Yeah, he’s made a lot of stupid decisions, but whatever the fuck he did with Zhengting that night easily tops the list.

It’s all he can think about as Xukun tugs at him with a vice-grip on his arm, their sneakers pounding against the pavement as sirens blare in the distance. They’re red-faced and sweaty as they sprint to their dorm. Xukun has to yank Ziyi’s wasted ass upright multiple times along the way to keep him from keeling over. Ziyi can’t focus on the road because he can’t stop thinking about how Zhengting’s hot puffs of breath felt against his neck.

He thinks about it as they tumble into their room, Xukun sagging against the door in relief when he sees Haohao waiting up on the couch with the lights on. Haohao’s panicked “We left early, but I heard about the cops coming and I was _so worried_ ,” sounds foggy in Ziyi’s ears. Ziyi replays Zhengting looking up through impossibly long eyelashes and breathing out “Again,” over and over in his mind.

He thinks about it as he lays in his bed, body aching from the run and buzzing with the weed, too drunk and stoned and stupid to stop himself from remembering the strip of Zhengting’s cheek that was lit up by the moonlight. Soft and smooth and glowing. Beautiful. He finally manages to fall asleep to fitful dreams of smoke and long fingers and hips that press against his dangerously. Slowly, then all at once.

He thinks about it when he wakes up the next morning, although the pounding in his head makes it hard to focus on much of anything at first. When he finally manages to convince himself to roll over and open his eyes, he lets out a pained groan. His mouth is dry as hell and tastes like ass. His heart is beating strangely fast, a fluttering that reminds him of hummingbird wings. He thinks he might float away. His eyes are uncomfortably dry and his hair is stringy and his lips are cracked as hell and _those lips were on Zhengting’s last night_ and – .

Ziyi takes a deep breath. Then another. That’s when he catalogues every other monumentally stupid thing he’s ever done in his life, from the razor cut to the fingerless gloves to the burned egg. It’s okay. People do stupid shit all the time. Just don’t think about it. Don’t think about the curve of Zhengting’s hand around your neck or the rhythm his fingers drummed into your hipbone. Don’t think about the sounds he made as you licked your way into his mouth. The way he _tasted_.

Ziyi is going to bang his head against the wall. He is the stupidest person who has ever lived. That is a fact.

He pulls the covers over his head and doesn’t come out again for a long, long time.

-

Xukun comes into his room hours later, when the sun’s hanging low in the sky. Ziyi lets out a muffled groan and rolls over, pushing his face into the pillow. He feels like he’s going to be sick, and it’s not from the hangover.

“Bro,” Xukun says, and it’s soft, but not cautious. He doesn’t expect anything’s up yet. “Headache that bad?”

Ziyi lets out a weak groan that he hopes passes as an affirmation.

“It’s nearly dinnertime. You didn’t eat?”

Ziyi flops his hand. “Can’t keep it down.” Doesn’t think about – _god damnit_.

Xukun winces and sits on the edge of his bed. He cards his hand through Ziyi’s greasy hair. It feels cool and good, and Ziyi tries to just concentrate on the moment. He’s with Xukun in his room with the fan blowing air on him. He’s with his best friend and brother. Nothing else matters.

“Don’t get crossed next time,” Xukun chuckles. “Smoking while drinking fucks you up unbelievably hard. You were so out of it last night when I found you. Your eyes were the size of dinner plates and you were breathing so fucking hard – you looked like a wild animal.”

Ziyi can imagine it – his face flushed and sweaty and his mouth spit-slick and dumbstruck as he looked for Zhengting in the horde of people that had suddenly appeared.

Xukun plays with one of Ziyi’s earrings absentmindedly. “Sorry I kind of disappeared on you. The guys on the team dragged me into a beer pong game, and when I looked around you were gone.”

“S’fine,” says Ziyi. “Met a cool guy. Jeffrey.”

Xukun laughs, and the motion tugs on Ziyi’s earring slightly. It feels good. Grounding. “What a guy. He has the eyes of Bambi, but he’ll demolish you on the court. No holding back.”

Ziyi cracks a smile. “Doesn’t surprise me, bro.”

Xukun _hmms_ and moves his hand back to Ziyi’s hair. “You’re kind of disgusting, you know. You need a shower.”

“Maybe later.” He’s not ready to face the world yet.

Xukun wrinkles his nose. “Suit yourself, bro. While you were laying around the whole day in bed, some of us had to make ourselves presentable to go out and about.”

Ziyi snorts. “Yeah, put on some hair gel and a clean outfit? I’m sure everyone really appreciated your monumental efforts.”

The hand in his hair stops. “Zhengzheng seemed to,” Xukun retorts. It doesn’t sound any different than anything else Xukun’s said. It’s not softer or firmer, not a declaration or a question. It’s just a statement that Xukun says matter-of-factly, but the hand in Ziyi’s hair has stopped moving and he suddenly feels genuine nausea roll through his stomach.

“We probably should have rescheduled,” Xukun keeps going. “He still seemed pretty hungover too. Like he wasn’t feeling too great, you know? His eyes were kind of swollen. But he really wanted to do it today anyways. We grabbed boba.”

Ziyi squeezes his eyes shut harder. He _forgot_ , he totally forgot like an absolute asshole that they were going to hang out the next day. He shouldn’t be surprised. Zhengting would do anything for Xukun, including ignore a pounding headache and a _really_ stupid decision from the night before.

“He’s really changed,” Xukun says, and Ziyi finds himself wishing with a sudden intensity that Xukun would just _go away_. It’s a strange and foreign feeling to him, and he doesn’t know how to process it. “He’s so different. It really surprised me. I mean…you know how he was before. But he seems almost grown up now. It was nice. He told me some stuff about Korea, some stories.” Xukun pauses. “He’s actually really funny. I think you’d like him, now.” It’s a harmless offhand comment, but it rubs Ziyi the wrong way.

“I liked him just fine before,” Ziyi says. It comes out harsher than he meant it to, and he feels Xukun stiffen. _Shit_ , he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to take it back. It’s not like he didn’t talk to Zhengting beforehand. Not like he didn’t go over to Zhengting’s house when Xukun asked out Meiyang, not like he didn’t practice dancing for _hours_ on end with Zhengting, not like he didn’t listen to Zhengting’s dreams and fantasies for years until Zhengting made the decision to just up and leave. Zhengting was just fine before, even with his buggy eyes and ill-fitting clothes and stick-thin limbs. He was just _fine_ , and Ziyi knew that well before Zhengting’s sudden physical transformation.

“Bro,” Xukun says carefully. “What’s going on?”

Ziyi stays quiet, afraid to open his mouth. Something ugly may come pouring out. He wants Xukun to leave and he wants him to stay in equal measure. He's terrified Xukun will find out, but he doesn't know how to deal with this on his own.

Like always, Xukun understands what he means. Or, at least, the general gist of it.

“I know something’s up with you,” Xukun says, and he sounds so worried that Ziyi’s heart aches. “It’s not just the after-effects of the party. Something else happened. And you don’t have to tell me now, but…” Xukun mouth twists. “I hate seeing you like this. You don’t have to figure it out on your own, yeah?” He finds Ziyi’s hand under the covers and squeezes. Ziyi feels it in some part of his core. “I love you, you know,” Xukun says like it’s the truest thing on Earth. For both of them, maybe it is.

They haven’t said that kind of thing in a while. Declarations of love. When they were kids, the “I love you”s used to spill from their mouths like honey. Like a treat that they passed back and forth between the both of them. A shared secret, only one that no one was ashamed of.

 _I love you_. They both used to say it so freely. Ziyi wonders why they ever stopped. The pain of growing up, he guesses. Teenage embarrassment, maybe. It’s a little sad. He used to be so starry-eyed, heart overflowing with so much love that he didn’t know where to put it. Holding out for that kind of romance that his parents had. That he saw in movies. That would sink into his heart like a hook and never let him go.

And Zhengting somehow saw that desire, even though he talked so much at the time that Ziyi thought he never saw him at all. He was wrong. What had Zhengting called him? ...A naïve romantic idealist. Three things that he’s definitely not anymore. It’s okay, though. He’s made his peace and buried his fantasies about an all-consuming, whirlwind love. He doesn’t need that in his life. He has Xukun.

Xukun loves him fiercely. Ziyi’s never doubted it, but it’s still carries weight when it's spoken aloud. Ziyi thinks the last time they’ve said that to each other was the night that he found out he was going to be adopted, when they both shook and fell apart in Ziyi’s old bed. It felt like the world was coming down around them, but maybe they could scrape and claw their way out of the rubble if they loved each other hard enough. They were still just kids back then, tiny and shaking and hurting as they both discovered what it meant to rebuild a family.

So maybe things have changed, but that’s still what’s important. Xukun. Family. Ziyi needs to remember that, even when everything’s getting jumbled in his head. “I love you,” Ziyi says back. He hasn’t spoken the words in a long time. It feels like blowing a layer of dust off of an old photo album. “Of course I do.”

“Of course,” Xukun echoes. “Everything’s going to be okay. I'm always here.” He squeezes Ziyi’s hand again, and it feels like both a lifeline and an anchor. “You should still eat something. Want some soup?” he asks. “I’ll pop it in the microwave.”

Ziyi barely manages to nod. The buzzing in his head has increased to nearly unbearable levels, and he doesn’t know how to think anymore. He needs to sleep. Things will figure themselves out. It was a mistake, that’s all. A stupid, idiotic mistake.

He thinks these thoughts as hard as he can, but he still doesn’t manage to convince himself. As soon as Xukun leaves his room, he runs to the bathroom and heaves up into the toilet. It’s a watery, acidic mess that makes his eyes stream. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel any better. Ziyi makes an executive decision to forgo dinner and crawls into his bed again.

He would have stayed there the whole weekend, and he honestly sees no problem with that, but Haohao drags him out of the room the next day. It’s an exhausting and drawn-out battle, starting with Haohao sweetly offering him breakfast in the morning and cumulating with him physically wrestling Ziyi out of bed and lobbing a wrinkled pair of jeans and sweatshirt at him. Ziyi’s protests fall on deaf ears as Haohao insists that he’s going to have some human interaction before he shrivels up and dies.

“This is ridiculous,” Haohao huffs as he pushes Ziyi out the door. “You guys said you would be my older brothers, not that I’d have to take care of you. You’re lucky Xukun’s at a group project meeting or he’d be coming along for this intervention too.”

“I don’t need an _intervention_ ,” Ziyi sputters, but Haohao’s mouth is set in the kind of firm line that suggests arguing would be useless.

“You’re delusional. We’re getting waffles.”

They end up at Ruibin’s waffle place _again_ , and Ziyi thinks they should really get some kind of customer loyalty discount. The place is pretty empty when they get there – not a lot of college kids are willing to wake up before noon on a Sunday, even for waffles. Yanchen’s sitting in one of the few occupied booths, and Zeren is in the seat next to him.

Yanchen spots them both and gives them a bright wave. His teeth are blindingly white. His hair is artfully styled, and he’s wearing a pair of clear framed glasses. He looks like he stepped out of a photoshoot. Ziyi suddenly feels very conscious of his crumpled basketball sweatshirt and unwashed hair.

“Ziyi! Haohao!” Yanchen exclaims, sounding delighted. “My favorite residents.”

“Ge!” Haohao practically skips over. Yanchen just has that effect on people. Ziyi follows, trying futilely to smooth out to wrinkles on his sweatshirt.

“Hi,” says Ziyi, willing himself not to blush. God, his hair is so _greasy_.

“Hi guys! You’re here again. Can’t stay away, huh?” Yanchen asks. “I can relate. The food here is to die for. I think Zeren actually puts crack in the batter. Oh, have you all met?”

Ziyi opens his mouth to say “yes” and turns to look at Zeren, but he’s surprised to find Zeren is already full-on _glaring_ at him. His jaw is tense and his eyes are burning. It stops Ziyi right in his tracks. Zeren has one of the most naturally open, trusting faces that Ziyi’s ever seen. However, this expression screams pure hatred.

“Um,” Ziyi says, racking his brain for answers. He’s only had a brief conversation with him before, and he can’t think of anything he’s done to warrant this.

“Crazy night at the party, huh?” Zeren’s tone is ice cold. His eyes are daggers. _Shit._ An image of Zeren’s picture on Zhengting’s wall flashes through Ziyi’s head.

Yanchen’s smile dims. “So…do you guys already know each other?”

Haohao, bless him, shoves his hand out for Zeren to shake. “Well, I don’t. Hi, I’m Qian Zhenghao. I live with Ziyi.”

Zeren shakes Haohao’s hand politely. “Ding Zeren. First-year student. Dance major.” Once he’s done with the introduction, the smile slips off his face and he goes back to scowling at Ziyi. “I should probably get back to work. I’ll cook your food _extra_ special.” He gets up and shoulders past Ziyi roughly, tying on his apron as he disappears into the kitchen.

Silence descends upon the three of them. Ziyi is trying not to visibly panic. How much does Zeren know? What did Zhengting tell him? Is it going to make its way back to Xukun?

Yanchen’s mouth is slightly open. “I’m so sorry,” he says finally. “That was so rude. I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know…”

“It’s fine,” Ziyi says weakly. He might throw up again. “Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up with you later.” He tugs Haohao to a table on the other side of the restaurant.

“What the hell,” Haohao whispers furiously, “did you do to him? Seriously, I actually felt the heat-waves emanating off of him.”

“I told you we should have stayed home,” Ziyi hisses back as he slumps into his chair. “Oh my God, I totally forgot he worked here.”

“Seriously, did you forget to tip him last time? Key his car? Insult his mother?”

Ziyi lets out a tired groan. His bed wouldn’t interrogate him like this. “Please stop.”

“Except I _can’t_ , because I’m genuinely worried that guy is going to mix our batter with hydrochloric acid.”

“He wouldn’t,” says Ziyi, trying to convince himself more than anything. “He’s actually a really nice guy, he’d never...” Ziyi pauses for a second, remembers Zhengting saying _we all just kind of became a family._ “Well, maybe not on your plate.”

Haohao lets out a whistle. “You really fucked up, huh?”

“Not talking about it,” Ziyi deadpans back at him. “That was the deal. I get out of bed and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“ _Fine_. But not for long. When Xukun gets back and sees you still like this we’re going to stage a real intervention.”

“No,” Ziyi says stubbornly. He’s not talking about it and he’s not thinking about it and it will all go away soon. Maybe he can transfer schools.

“You’ll see,” Haohao says way too cheerfully. “Anyways, since you’re going to be a dark cloud, you might as well hear about some positive personal development that the rest of us have been going through. I’ve started going to the gym. And I finally hit that high G I’ve been trying to reach.” Haohao pauses, huffing when Ziyi doesn’t react. “Also Xukun’s been re-evaluating his relationships with that Zhengting guy you two knew from high school.”

“How?”

“Of course you’d respond to that. You’re both obsessed with him now. Xukun went out yesterday with him. I think he told you. Anyways he comes back all contemplative. We ended up talking about it, and he said that he never really noticed the guy before. But apparently, it’s different now, or something.”

“Different how?” Ziyi asks before he can help himself. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.

Haohao shrugs. “I don’t know. You probably would have understood what he had meant if you were _actually there_ at dinner.”

Haohao is a shit and Ziyi doesn’t know why he loves him.

Their food comes out cold. Ziyi’s pancakes are burned black. “CHOKE” is drizzled on them in huge, syrupy block letters.

-

He goes to class on Monday. Everything is fine. Xukun still has a worried twist to his mouth, but he stopped pushing after Ziyi said he didn’t walk to talk about it for the millionth time. Zhengting hasn’t texted or called, but Ziyi doesn’t know why he expected him to. There’s a pulsing ache in his chest. Everything is fine.

He can’t focus. When he’s in his biology lecture, the girl next to him nudges his shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispers. She has deep red lipstick on. “What did he just say?”

“What?” Ziyi asks dumbly. He hadn’t been paying attention. He feels like he’s moving through water, all slow and stupid.

She rolls her eyes. “Dude. What did the professor just say? About the test next week?”

“We have a test next week?” What have they even learned?

She gives him a long look. “You’re kidding.”

He’s not.

She ends up hastily scrawling her number on his notebook. “You need someone to help you out, or you’re going to fail,” she says. “Let’s study together sometime.”

He thinks about it. He thinks that he thinks too much, but he can’t stop. He thinks about her intentions, if she’s interested in him or not. Ziyi finds that he doesn’t really care, but it’s better than thinking about _that other thing_ , so he mulls it over and over in his head as he walks out of the building. It’s been a while since he’s had a girlfriend. It might sort through all the confusion that’s been plaguing him recently. He’s just gotten a little mixed up, somehow. Drank too much and got confused.

He’s walking back to his dorm, shoes scuffing against the pavement, when he hears his name being called.

“Ziyi!” Jeffrey jogs over. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

“Jeffrey,” Ziyi says, surprised. “How are you?”

“Done with classes for the day,” says Jeffrey. “So pretty good. Are you free right now?”

“Yeah,” says Ziyi, shifting the weight of his backpack. The sun is beating down and it’s sticking to his shirt. “I was just heading home.”

“Want to come over?” Jeffrey crooks his head in the opposite direction. “I need someone to help me finish my eggs before they expire.”

It makes Ziyi laugh. His immediate reaction is to say _no,_ he’s tired and feels like shit, but he stops himself. He can’t keep staying holed away in bed. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

They end up smoking in the backyard as they peel a bowl full of hard-boiled eggs. It’s early in the afternoon, and Ziyi definitely has other things he should be doing, but it’s hard to care about that when the weed fogs up his mind, settling a nice haze over everything.

Jeffrey doesn’t disappoint – he’s really, really fucking easy to talk to. He doesn’t ask about why Zhengting was so upset on the balcony. He doesn’t ask about the secret that Ziyi told him, about his friend being in love with his brother. He doesn’t ask any hard questions at all, and after they polish off the eggs, they end up passing a basketball back and forth on the court in the yard.

There’s something about getting high that always sharpens Ziyi’s reflexes, making him feel like the world is happening in slow-motion around him, and it serves him well as he feints his way around Jeffrey and scores a shot.

“You’re good,” Jeffrey says after Ziyi scores another one. “Like, actually pretty good.”

“I used to play in high school.”

“You should have tried out for the team with Xukun,” Jeffrey says as he sinks a shot. _Swish._

“Nah, bro. I spend most of my time b-boying now.”

“No kidding. That’s pretty dope. I kind of wish I focused on other stuff. Basketball’s cool and all, but I wish I also had time to…” Jeffrey narrows his eyes in concentration as he lines up another shot. It bounces off the rim, and Ziyi snags it. Rebound.

“To what?”

“Sing,” Jeffrey grins. He takes advantage of Ziyi’s stunned silence and swipes the ball from him.

“Oh my god,” Ziyi says. “You’re a regular Troy Bolton.”

Jeffrey gets way too excited at the reference and they end up ditching the ball and going inside to watch _High School Musical_. Jeffrey has all three films (the extended version) on DVD _and_ Blu-ray. He also has all the CDs – the karaoke versions. In his stoned state, it’s the funniest thing that Ziyi’s ever seen. He can’t stop laughing at it, even as Jeffrey chucks the DVD case at his head.

“You have to support artists, okay? They need to make a living too,” Jeffrey scowls.

Ziyi thinks he might actually tearing up. “It’s a billion-dollar Disney movie franchise, not a CD from a coffeehouse indie singer.” 

Jeffrey decides to ignore Ziyi and start the movie, which is probably a good call on his part. Ziyi finally manages to pull himself together when Troy and Gabriella are pushed on stage at the ski resort, and the first chords of “Start of Something New” begin to play.

Jeffrey croons out the first line, eyes focused on the screen with rapt attention. He’s good. Clear, sharp voice.

Ziyi joins in with his falsetto when Gabriella starts singing. Her voice is unbelievably high, and his faces scrunches up as he struggles to reach those notes without sounding too shrill.

It doesn’t sound that bad, though. They sing the chorus together, and Jeffrey starts bopping his head along enthusiastically to the music. He suddenly jumps to his feet and belts out his next few lines. He’s aggressively singing into a chopstick in lieu of a mic (when the hell did he pull that out?), and Ziyi’s genuinely concerned that he might choke on it. Jeffrey’s eyes are unfocused from the weed, but his gaze is bright as he pulls Ziyi to his feet.

“You can’t _not_ groove to this,” Jeffrey says, passing the chopstick to him. “Come on!”

Ziyi takes a deep breath before going for the high notes again. Miraculously, his voice doesn’t crack, and Jeffrey shoots enthusiastic thumbs-ups at him. They both jump into the chorus again, and it’s ridiculous but it’s fun, both of them really going at it now. Jeffrey keeps pumping his fist in the air and screaming out the words with his eyes closed, like he’s at some sort of rave.

Onscreen, Troy and Gabriella belt out “It’s the start! Of something new!” and Ziyi hazily thinks _God, I wish_. The song finishes far too soon. He squeezes his shut too as they sing the final line, and then sinks down to the floor as the last notes fade out.

Jeffrey flops down next to him, eyes still glued to the screen. “ _Bro_ ,” he says. “That was really good.”

“I can never hit the high notes.”

“Regardless. It was still good. We could totally form a duo. Like Simon & Garfunkel. Except Jeffrey & Ziyi. Or were those their last names?”

“Not sure,” Ziyi murmurs back, stretching out on the floor. His mind is nice and blank now. A smoke and some eggs and _High School Musical_. That must be the cure-all for everything. “Then we’d be Tung  & Wang.”

Jeffrey snorts. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it, somehow.”

They watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, mainly because Jeffrey keeps _shush_ ing him. It’s been a while since Ziyi’s seen it, and he’s forgotten how easy everything is for the main characters. They fall in love immediately. Troy makes a mistake, a really bad one, but he fixes it. And everyone’s happy and there’s an Oscar-worthy dance performance at the end.

He ends up ranting about this to Jeffrey as the credits roll, though he’s making a lot less sense aloud than he did in his head. He has a lot of _feelings_ about how unrealistic it all is, but his tongue is too thick to convey it all.

“There are some mistakes that maybe you just _can’t_ fix, you know what I mean? And telling the whole team that he doesn’t care about her – that’s pretty fucked up. There’s no way she would forgive him that easily in real life, right? You can’t play with someone’s feelings like that.”

Jeffrey looks at him with a blank gaze.

“I mean, in the end, I know it’s just a movie,” Ziyi allows defensively. “But it’s really easy sometimes to get mixed up about what’s real and what’s not. And, you know, like you said. Life isn’t a romcom.”

Jeffrey twirls the chopstick around in his fingers for a few seconds before speaking. “So I used to be a really shy kid. No confidence, you know what I mean? Didn’t know how to talk to anyone. And the worst part was that I gave off this cold and awkward demeanor so everyone would leave me alone, but all I wanted was a friend. To feel accepted and comfortable. That sort of thing. I kind of just went on like that until I went to a singing camp in high school… I found something I loved. It gave me confidence. I had never felt that before.” He examines his hands and begins to pick at the skin around his nails. “It was so strange. All of a sudden, I found people who thought I was good at something, and who got to know me because of it. I became less scared of speaking up, or asking for what I wanted. I realized that people are never going to know how you feel unless you tell them.”

Jeffrey’s words sound like they’re coming from far away. Ziyi doesn’t understand how this is relating to anything he’s said.

“What I’m trying to say is, your life isn’t a rom com, but it is _your_ life.” Jeffrey pauses. “You know what I’m saying? Happy endings don’t just happen on their own. Same with mistakes. They don’t resolve themselves. If you want something, you have to reach for it. Let people know what you want.”

“What if you don’t even know what you want?” Ziyi asks. His throat is dry and he doesn’t quite know how to say how he feels. “What if everything’s a mess and you don’t know what to reach for?”

Jeffrey closes his eyes. “The truth is that everyone just wants love, bro. Reach for that.”

-

The next few days pass in a blur. Weed can dull his thoughts and make everything seem easier, but he can’t stay high forever. When reality hits him again, it’s confusing and painful and Ziyi keeps having these dreams. His subconscious replays memories of That Night over and over again while he’s asleep, and he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. Xukun and Haohao watch him carefully, as if they’re afraid he’s going to explode. He doesn’t know many times he can keep saying “I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it,” when the actual problem is that he doesn’t know _how_ to.

Ziyi feels like he might shake out of his skin on the night of their first dance practice. He pulls out his phone and looks at Zhengting’s contact icon. Scrolls through their old messages from what feel like forever ago. He could text Zhengting. He could totally text Zhengting. Say something like _want to walk over together?_ It’s something he would have done, before. It’s not a big deal.

Instead, Ziyi locks his phone. His mind is a mess. He’s going to be late to practice if he keeps this up.

He pulls on a hoodie and heads out to the dance building, music blaring into his ears. His stomach is twisting horribly. The walk is short, and he makes it over with some time to spare. Ziyi ducks into the bathroom and messes with his hair. His palms are slick with sweat. He has no idea what he’s doing anymore.

He takes a deep breath and stares his reflection down in the mirror. He looks fine. Normal. So maybe his skin is paler than usual and the bags under his eyes have darkened, but that’s college for you.

Ziyi decides then that he needs to fix the mistake. That’s the next step. He did something really shitty and now he’s all fucked up inside, and the next step is to fix it. It can be that simple. Jeffrey’s right. Things won’t resolve themselves on their own. He’s going to walk inside the room, go over to Zhengting, and ask him if they can talk. Then he’s going to apologize and maybe everything between them can be okay again.

He repeats this to himself a few more times, and then he goes to locate the practice room. It’s not hard to find. He can hear people in it talking and laughing from down the hall. Ziyi hesitates before turning the knob, and someone inside calls “Don’t be shy! Come on in!”

His face flushes, and he quickly opens the door. It’s a big room, and there’s a decent amount of people in it. More than he was expecting. The guy who called him in is on the other side of the door, a smile splitting open his face. “Hey! I’m Chaoze, the dance captain. I’m a senior. Your audition was great, by the way. We’re all so happy with this year’s new members.”

“Thank you,” Ziyi says. He’s never been the best at handling compliments, but he takes each one of them to heart. “Really, thanks.” He tries to inject as much gratitude as he can into the statement.

“No need.” Chaoze waves his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good. Anyways, go mingle! We’ll start in a few minutes with introductions. I think some of the freshmen are over there.” He points to a side of the room where some people are huddled around the bars.

Ziyi’s eyes immediately lock onto Zhengting in the corner, and his throat constricts. He looks…he looks really _soft_ , dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweats. His hair flops in his face.  He’s staring at the ground. He probably hasn’t seen Ziyi yet. Ziyi needs to go over and say hi. Try and fix whatever happened between them.

Then he sees Zeren sidle up next to Zhengting and furiously whisper something in his ear. Zhengting starts twisting his foot into the floor as he bites his lip. His face is slowly paling. Ziyi wonders if they’re talking about him, and then Zeren levels a glare his way and Ziyi knows that they are. His tiny bit of courage that he built up evaporates instantly, and his hands start shaking again. It's over. He tried not to think about the possibility, but deep down he was terrified that he fucked this up so badly it could never be recovered. Turns out he was right.

Chaoze claps his hands, silencing the chatter. “Alright, everyone! Thanks for coming out tonight to our first dance practice of the year. To all our returning members, welcome back!” A round of cheers go up around the room. “And to all of our new members, congratulations! It’s definitely not easy to make it on the school team, and you guys all have incredible talent. We’re so excited to put on fantastic performances this year. Remember, the harder you work, the luckier you are!” He pumps his fist up exaggeratedly, but it somehow works for him. “Now we’ll do the introductions. You all know me already, but you may not know each other. Just go around the room and say your name, year, major, and a fun fact about yourself!”

The introductions start, but Ziyi barely registers anything that anyone says. His eyes are fixed on Zhengting, and Zhengting’s eyes are still fixed on the floor. It can’t be like this now. This can’t be their relationship from now on. If Zhengting would just _look_ at him then maybe they could resolve it all, but Zhengting just keeps biting his lip and staring down.

It hurts. Ziyi expected awkwardness and rambling but not _this_ , not a sudden icing out. It hurts that Zhengting won’t even look at him or try to talk to him about what happened. It dawns on him that Zhengting can just cut Ziyi out of his life if he wants to like _that._ And why should Ziyi even be surprised. He knew all along that it’s not him that Zhengting’s in love with. It’s not him that Zhengting dreams about and it’s not him that Zhengting wants. Even so, he thought they were friends, but he guesses he was wrong. Zhengting only talked to Ziyi because of Xukun, and it’s not like that changed after he came back from Korea.

Him and Zhengting are too different. They always have been. Ziyi’s always known that fact, but it’s something that he’s managed to make himself forget over the past few years. It’s Ziyi’s own fault for ever thinking otherwise.

Ziyi only realizes it’s his turn for introductions when the person beside him nudges him with their elbow. Startled, he looks up to see Xingjie. (Seriously, how is this guy _everywhere_?) Xingjie jerks his head at Ziyi and mouths “Go” impatiently, and Ziyi takes a second to shake himself out of his mental state.

“Hey, what’s up,” he says. “I’m BOOGIE, Wang Ziyi.” He pulls his fingers into his signature hand sign, and he hears some chuckles around the room. He can do this. “I’m a freshman biology major. I love to b-boy, and I like to play basketball.”

The introductions keep going around the room, and Ziyi tells himself not to look up when Zhengting talks, but he does anyways.

“Hi everyone,” Zhengting says, voice sounding a little too cheery for how distant he seemed earlier. His smile looks forced. His eyes are dull. Two weeks ago, Ziyi might not have noticed what a bad liar he is, but he’s been paying too much attention lately to how Zhengting looks when he’s really, truly happy. “I’m Zhu Zhengting. I’m a freshman contemporary dance major. I studied abroad in Korea and I love pigs.” A few people laugh, and Zhengting quickly adds, “And I really, _really_ love to dance. Not sure if I said that already.” He snaps his mouth shut and his cheeks flush. _He’s nervous_ , Ziyi thinks, and then he tells himself that he doesn’t care.

After the introductions, Chaoze goes over their schedules for the semester. It’s pretty packed. Three-hour-long practices each weeknight. There’s also rehearsals and competitions and showcases and individual spotlights. Ziyi’s head is spinning with all the information, but he latches onto it, grateful for a distraction. They spend the next two hours of practice learning a supposedly simple routine that’s supposed to determine their skill level. Despite what Chaoze says, it’s actually fairly complex, and they’re all sweating bullets by the end of it. Ziyi wills his heartrate to calm down as he twists open his water bottle. He takes a few sips before noticing the guy next to him doesn’t have one, and he offers the rest of his water to him. The boy takes it with a grateful nod.

Ziyi tilts his head back and focuses on steadying his breathing. He doesn’t look at Zhengting and Zeren piled on top of each other on the other side of the room.

So that’s how it is now. They’re practically strangers. Ziyi doesn’t know how to make it better when Zhengting doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Doesn’t even know what he can begin to say. _“Hey, I’m sorry I kissed you after I got you stoned for the first time. Let’s be friends again”???_ God, Zhengting probably things he’s some sort of disgusting, groping monster who tried to take advantage of him. Ziyi doesn’t know how to deal with that.

He peels his aching body off the floor and gets up, ready to head home. He can’t reach for anything when he’s the one who pushed it all away.

He doesn’t expect Xingjie to fall into step next to him. “Hey,” Xingjie says, and he doesn’t sound out of breath at _all_. He’s probably not even sweating. “Can we talk?”

Ziyi is tired and hurt and really not in the mood. “Zeren already burned my pancakes to a crisp. He’s also been giving me death glares every chance he gets, so you really don’t have to continue to punish me, or whatever.”

Xingjie rolls his eyes. “And I thought Zhengting was fucking dramatic.” He grabs Ziyi’s arm and pulls him into the bathroom. It’s private. “You’re going to listen to what I have to say and stop being stupid.” His tone books no room for argument.

Ziyi wants to go home and maybe cry. He doesn’t see why no one will let him do that. “If it’s about Zhengting then I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too fucking bad,” Xingjie says, leaning against the sink. “You think _I_ want to be talking about this? But everyone involved in this situation is being a complete idiot, and it’s literally ruining my quality of life. I _live_ with that idiot, for God’s sake. His ‘eau de heartbreak’ is stinking up our entire dorm. So we’re talking about it.”

“There’s really nothing to talk about.” Ziyi’s tired of repeating it over and over again. He’s just tired, in general. He wants a night of undisturbed sleep.

Xingjie nearly growls. “Dude. I saw you making moon eyes at the kid throughout all of practice. I thought Zhengting had it bad, but you’re probably worse. I was counting on you to be sensible, but clearly, without me, you’re going to suffer through this martyr complex until you shrivel up and die. Listen. I have no idea what the hell happened between you two, and I don’t really care. It doesn’t matter. All I know is that Zhengting hasn’t shut up about you once since you showed up on our doorstep. Every day it was ‘Ziyi this’ and ‘Ziyi that’. Then he comes back from that party and he cries all night. Won’t tell anyone what happened.”

“He cried?” Ziyi asks weakly.

“ _Yes_ , he cried. Kept us up all night. Said he ruined your relationship and you’d never talk to him again. I have no idea what he said to you, if he really insulted you or something, but he’s hurting badly… Honestly, before today I was ready to rip you a new one, but then you come into practice looking like the world was crumbling before your eyes. It should be illegal, your expression. You’re both miserable now, so fix it.” Xingjie rubs his eyes tiredly. “God, you two are both so hopelessly stupid.”

“I’m,” Ziyi says dumbly, then stops. “I… He thought _he_ ruined our relationship?”

Xingjie stares at him for a beat. “I am too goddamn old for this shit,” he declares and marches Ziyi out of the bathroom. “You are going to drink some more water, go in there,” he points at another, smaller practice room, “and talk to him. Zhengting always stays and practices ‘til way too late.”

He pushes Ziyi to the water fountain. Ziyi’s mind is still trying to process everything that’s going on. He has so many more questions. Zhengting isn’t angry? He’s not disgusted? He _cried_?

“Ge,” he ends up saying instead. “You dance, too?”

Xingjie snorts. “I do everything. I’m a magician.” He claps Ziyi’s shoulder. “Work hard, work hard, and then work harder.” He shoots Ziyi finger guns and starts heading towards the exit.

Ziyi stands in front of the water fountain in some sort of haze for a few minutes. He’s not quite sure what just happened. He ends up robotically downing a few sips of the lukewarm water. The practice room is down the hall. Zhengting is inside. Zhengting is _sad_. Ziyi could leave and go home.

It’s not a hard choice to make.

He pushes the door open slowly. Zhengting’s sitting on the floor, chest heaving as he wipes sweat from his forehead. His shirt is soaked. Then he spots Ziyi and makes a strange, strangled noise as he leaps to his feet.

Ziyi immediately holds his hands out, palms facing Zhengting. It’s a stupid, instantaneous reaction. “It’s just me,” he says softly.

“Um,” Zhengting says, face paling as he very carefully doesn’t look at Ziyi. “What are you – what are you doing here?”

Ziyi means to say something like _We need to talk_ or _I’m sorry_ , but instead what ends up coming out of his mouth is “You haven’t looked at me at all today.”

Zhengting makes another strangled sound and looks around helplessly. _He looks like a trapped animal_ , Ziyi thinks, and it makes his heart ache. He doesn’t know how to fix it, but he knows with sudden certainty that he has to. Zhengting _cried_.

“I thought you hated me.” And that wasn’t what Ziyi meant to say either. His brain-to-mouth filter is truly shot, and the words taste sour coming up.

Zhengting’s gaze suddenly whips up to meet Ziyi’s, and Ziyi thinks _finally_. His pulse ratchets up as Zhengting fixes his too-big, too-expressive eyes on him. “What?” Zhengting asks, and he almost sounds offended. “Why would you think that?”

A wave of relief washes over Ziyi, and he almost stumbles with the force of it. “You don’t, then?”

Zhengting looks more and more confused. “Hate you? _You_ , Wang Ziyi, the most selfless person on this Earth? That’s like hating a golden retriever. Or Bob Ross.”

Ziyi’s stomach is twisting in all sorts of weird ways, but it doesn’t feel painful anymore. Or maybe it does, but in a good way. “No comparison there. I’ve always been shit at art.”

“True,” Zhengting says. His voice still sounds shaky, but his face looks ten times more _real_ than it did in practice. No more fake smiles and dull eyes. “People would probably pay you to _not_ draw anything for them.”

Ziyi might keel over from how grateful he feels. _It’s going to be okay_ , he thinks, and for the first time, finds it the tiniest bit convincing. Him and Zhengting are staring at each other from across the practice room, but at least Zhengting’s looking at him, and that gives him the courage to take a deep breath and say, “Listen. About that night.”

Zhengting cuts him off, suddenly tripping over his words. “It’s fine. We were both stoned. I had too much to drink. I think Mercury was in retrograde. It’s totally fine.”

Ziyi pauses. “You sure?”

Zhengting nods furiously.

“Because…we can talk about it more, if you want.” Ziyi isn’t sure what he himself wants.

“No!” Zhengting insists. “Seriously. People do weird things when they’re under the influence. It’s fine.”

 _You cried over me_ , Ziyi thinks again, and then he decides that everything’s fine as long as Zhengting never does that again. “Yeah,” Ziyi says, feeling strangely light and heavy at the same time. “Happens all the time.”

Zhengting keeps nodding. Ziyi’s a little afraid he might get whiplash. “Exactly,” Zhengting says. “Precisely. All the time.”

“Um,” Ziyi says, a little afraid to prod too hard. “So. We’re okay now, right? We’re good?”

An emotion washes over Zhengting’s features, and it takes Ziyi a second to classify it as relief. Zhengting’s shoulders slump as he lets go of a tenseness Ziyi wasn’t even aware he was holding. “I think so,” Zhengting says, and he sounds awfully fragile. “I mean, I hope so.”

“We’re good,” Ziyi says firmly. Zhengting doesn’t hate him and still wants to be his friend, and that’s honestly better than every best-case scenario he’s dreamed up in the past few days. There’s a strange, heavy feeling settling in his gut, but he catalogues it as exhaustion. He’s been unable to sleep well, tormented by dreams of _that night_ , and the weariness is all hitting him now.

“Good,” Zhengting says, his voice strangely wobbly. He lets out a tiny sniff, and Ziyi’s heart is suddenly in his throat.

“Zhengting,” he says, probably sounding vaguely desperate. “Please don’t cry.” He _hates_ it when Zhengting cries, absolutely _hates_ it. Zhengting is always loud and expressive and larger than life, and it seems to violate a law of nature whenever he shrinks down into himself and begins to tear up. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ziyi associates with Zhengting. It should be illegal. Ziyi didn’t know how to deal with Zhengting crying in seventh grade, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it now. His hands flex uselessly at his sides.

“I’m not crying,” Zhengting says as he wipes at his eyes. He lets out a watery laugh. “You’re looking at me like I’m a grenade. I’m not going to explode.”

“You're not a grenade and I'm not scared of any explosion. I just hate seeing you cry,” Ziyi says helplessly, and for some reason this sets Zhengting off. Big fat tears start rolling down his cheeks, and he furiously scrubs at them while cursing.

“You are the _worst_ , Wang Ziyi. You always go and say the _stupidest_ , most _sincere_ things, and why are you _like_ this?” Zhengting sniffles furiously, and it’s making Ziyi’s stomach lurch. Zhengting was supposed to _stop_ crying after this. He wasn’t supposed to be sad anymore.

Ziyi’s crossed the room and pulled Zhengting into a hug before he even realized he was moving. Zhengting is shock-still for a second, spine stiffening enough for Ziyi to think he’s made a huge mistake, before he practically _melts_ into Ziyi’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Zhengting says as he buries his face into Ziyi’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“You idiot,” Ziyi laughs and resolutely ignores the stinging in his eyes. He focuses instead on the pure relief spreading through him, shooting through his veins. Things are going to be fixable. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Zhengting huffs and hits Ziyi’s shoulder. “I’m emotional and unstable right now, so it’s your job to indulge me.”

“Okay,” Ziyi says. His arms tighten on impulse around Zhengting, but he doesn’t complain. “Then this is me being indulgent.”

“Shut up,” says Zhengting snottily. His nose is all red. “I genuinely thought I fucked everything up between us, okay? I’m allowed to cry a bit.”

“I didn’t realize you cared,” Ziyi says. He tries to make it sound teasing, but he’s not sure how much of his genuine feeling leaks through.

“You are an actual idiot,” says Zhengting. “I came over to your house for _years_. We danced together. You met my kids. Of _course_ I care.”

Ziyi feels strange and light. It’s almost like being drunk. “Oh,” he says, then adds, “Me too, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

Zhengting lets out a choked laugh. “You have such a way with words.”

“I’m just glad we’re okay,” says Ziyi sincerely. “I was so scared.”

Zhengting just looks at him for a few seconds, and then he groans loudly. “God, put those eyes away, you’re going to blind someone. How are you even a real person, Wang Ziyi.”

Ziyi doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, but it’s hard to care when Zhengting is here and things are okay again after days of fearing for the worst. _The kiss was a mistake_ , he thinks firmly. Just a drunken, stoned mistake that happened when they got too caught up in things. It happens to everyone. But now everything’s fine, and Zhengting is happy and he won’t get hurt by Ziyi anymore. He won’t get hurt by Xukun anymore either, because Ziyi will fix all of that, somehow. If Ziyi had his way, he wouldn’t get hurt by anyone ever again, because a hurt Zhengting is something that he’ll never be prepared to deal with. Everything’s going to be fine between the three of them. Ziyi has his brother, who he grew up with, and he has Zhengting, who was always there too for everything that mattered. That’s all he needs.

He firmly tells himself that, and he believes it.

-

He can’t stop smiling the entire way home. He takes the long way back, walking through the twisting campus streets past buildings he never goes into. He feels like he could go on for miles. It’s dark and he’s sweaty and disgusting, but this is the best he’s felt all week. He’s going to go back to the dorm and apologize to Xukun and Haohao for being a moody asshole, and then he’s going to take a hot shower and fall into a peaceful, undisturbed sleep. Things are _finally_ going okay now.

So, of course, when he’s a few feet away from his building entrance, someone nearly yanks his arm out of his socket while shoving a hand over his mouth.

“Mmph!” Ziyi protests, instincts immediately kicking into overdrive. He can’t see who it is, but they’re shorter than him, and he rams an elbow down into their gut. They let out a ragged groan and their grip loosens, but another one wraps his arms around Ziyi before he can get away. Ziyi stomps on the attacker’s foot, but he’s still not able to escape. Another guy comes up and secures Ziyi’s hands behind his back. Ziyi thrashes in the hold, and somehow manages to bring all of them straight down into the dirt. His head hits the ground hard, and he blinks furiously, suddenly disoriented. Two of the attackers takes this chance to sit on him, ruining his only hopes for escape. The third one crouches down in front of him. He’s holding something big and long, but Ziyi can’t tell what it is in the nonexistent light. Probably a weapon.

 _Shit._ He’s going to get mugged and shot and bleed out into the grass, and he’s thirty feet away from his front door. Xukun is never going to let him live it down. He tries to scream, but the sound barely comes out.

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god,” the guy covering his mouth whispers furiously, and Ziyi freezes. He sounds kind of familiar.

“I told you this was a horrible idea,” another guy hisses out, and Ziyi _definitely_ knows that voice. He knew Zeren was pissed off, but there’s no way he hates Ziyi enough to murder him like this.

 _Right_?

“What the _fuck_?” he says, except it comes out as “Wharhtephuf?” What the actual fuck.

“If I remove my hand,” Justin says slowly, his weight digging into Ziyi’s back. “Will you scream?”

“Fudkjye,” Ziyi says. He lets his head thud back against the dirt. It throbs where he hit it coming down. He hates his life.

Justin slowly removes his hand, then wipes it on Ziyi’s shirt. “Ewwww. You didn’t have to drool all over me.”

“It’s what you deserve,” says Zeren. He brushes some of Ziyi’s bangs out of his eyes, which Ziyi grudgingly appreciates since, you know, Justin and Chengcheng are sitting on his arms.

Somehow, knowing that it’s them three doesn’t make him feel any better. Ziyi’s always had the impression that they’re distinctly unhinged. He should have told Zhengting that when he still had the chance. Now it's probably too late. They've all snapped and they're going on a murder spree.

His eyes have adjusted a bit to the dark, he can see a rusty shovel in Zeren’s grip. His hands turn clammy.

“Um,” he says. “I have an exam next week I should really start studying for. If you guys could just let me up, I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh yeah!” Chengcheng says, jumping up, and Ziyi’s lungs expand gratefully. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to knock you to the ground like that. You struggle too much, you know? We just wanted to pull you aside.”

“To talk!” adds Justin, who _finally_ rolls off his back.

Zeren extends a hand to pull Ziyi up. He probably shouldn’t take it, considering Zeren might actually stab him or something, but he’s just hit his head and been flattened into the ground, and he’s not feeling too steady on his legs right now. Zeren tugs him up and he leans against the building, catching his breath.

“If you wanted to _talk_ ,” he wheezes, “why didn’t you just fucking call my name?”

“It’s a secret talk,” Justin says gravely. “We didn’t want to attract attention.”

“…You’re all psychopaths. You just took ten years off my life.” He’s not taking his eye off of Zeren’s shovel until they’re long gone.

Chengcheng pouts. “Heyyy. We thought it’d be fun! You know, convening in the dead of night, like secret agents.”

“How long did you guys even _wait_ here?”

“Like forty minutes,” says Zeren sheepishly. “You and Zhengting talked for a really long time, but Jie-ge told us that you were making things better, so we were willing to wait. This other guy came by who sort of looked like you, so we jumped him, but…” He scratches the back of his neck. “It was someone else. Our bad. Or really, Justin’s bad, this whole thing was his idea.”

“You should have seen the look on his _face_ ,” snickers Chengcheng. “He’s not taking any midnight walks soon.”

“And it’s not like Zeren was opposed to the idea!” Justin protests. “I swear he spent the past half hour trying to find Yanchen’s window.” Zeren swiftly kicks him in the ankle.

Ziyi just wanted to go home and take a shower. Now he’s sweaty and dirt-covered, trapped outside of his building by three idiots and a shovel. “Can we just…talk about whatever it is you all wanted to talk about? So we can all go home and I can do my best to forget this ever happened?”

“Oh, right,” Zeren says. “Sorry about all of this, by the way. I _told_ them that it was a stupid idea, but they didn’t listen. Anyways. I wanted to apologize about this whole week. The glares and the pancakes, and you know.” He winces, looking genuinely apologetic. “I felt really bad about it. Well, I guess I didn’t at the time, but I really do now that you and Zhengting have made up. He just texted us a string of sunshine and pig emojis, so he’s basically back to normal now.”

“It’s all good,” Ziyi says cautiously. The shovel gleams in the moonlight.

“He was really torn up after the party, like you wouldn’t believe. He wouldn’t tell me anything, but I saw him with you right beforehand, and I _knew_ you must have done something. Also, Justin told us how he cried all night because he thought you wouldn't be friends with him anymore. And I couldn’t just let that slide, so.” Zeren shrugs.

“Zhengting’s our family,” Chengcheng says. “And we’re glad you guys made up and all – (“Seriously, _sooo_ glad,” Justin pipes in) – but we came here as a warning. Well, Zeren came to apologize and creepily stalk Yanchen, but our main mission was to warn you.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to do it,” says Ziyi wearily. “Please let me go home and put the shovel away.”

“How can we do that,” Justin wiggles his eyebrows, “when we’re supposed to be giving you the _shovel_ talk?”

Silence. A cricket chirps. Somewhere in the distance, Zhengting is probably laughing his ass off.

“Are you telling me,” Ziyi starts, trying to keep his voice low and steady. It’s not working. “That you waited for forty minutes outside my building, ambushed me in the dark, wrestled me to the ground, _sat_ on me, and are now holding a shovel in front of me just so you could give me the shovel talk?”

“Um,” Zeren says, wringing his hands around the shovel handle nervously. “I mostly came to apologize. We’re both on the dance team now, and I really don’t want it to be awkward. But also, yeah. Warning.”

“We wanted it to be as literal as possible,” Chengcheng explains. “So you’d take us seriously.”

“Oh my God,” Ziyi says weakly.

“ _The point_ ,” says Justin, “is that if you ever,” he takes a step forward, “ever”, he takes another step, “ _ever_ ”, he jabs a finger into Ziyi’s chest, “hurt Zhengting again, we will make your life a living hell.”

“Yeah,” Chengcheng puffs up his chest. “We’re his defense squad. Anyone who hurts Zhengting gets their ass beat.”

“I’m kind of a pacifist,” says Zeren. “But I’ll keep burning your waffles. And, you know. Glaring.”

Ziyi has resigned himself to the situation. “You do have a pretty good glare.”

Zeren practically _beams_ at this, lighting up the night. “Oh, really? You think?”

“Yes,” Ziyi says tiredly. “Sure. Can I leave now? Message received.”

Justin, Chengcheng, and Zeren look at each other blankly. “Um,” Chengcheng says. “I guess so. You should probably take a shower.”

“Probably, considering I got shoved into the dirt,” Ziyi says.

“We’re really sorry about that, too,” winces Zeren.

“But if you hurt Zhengting any more, then we’ll do it again! And worse!” Justin pipes up. He lowers his voice. “Except you’re like _really_ cool, so please don’t do it. I don’t want to beat you up.”

“Justin, you can’t beat me up. I’m half a head taller than you.”

“Yeah, and I smushed _half your head_ into the dirt.”

“You _ambushed me_ in the dark! There were three of you!”

Justin wags his finger. “Excuses, excuses,” he tsks.

Ziyi is so done with them all. “I’m not going to hurt him. I regret meeting every single one of you,” he declares, and turns around to make his way into the building.

“We love you!” Chengcheng and Justin cry out together.

“Again, totally all Justin’s idea,” Zeren says. “Please don’t tell Yanchen.”

“Leave before I call the cops,” Ziyi calls over his shoulder.

They scatter.

-

Life falls into a sort of rhythm after that. Xukun and Haohao are undeniably relieved to see him acting healthy again, although it takes another week before the worried crease in Xukun’s brow disappears whenever he looks at Ziyi. Haohao’s delighted to have him back, and drags him to the gym in the mornings. Him and Xukun fall back into their familiar ritual of movie theater nights. They go out on Sundays and watch reruns of old horror movies for $5. Ziyi hangs out with Jeffrey after classes some days and they shoot hoops together.

He studies diligently for his exams with his study groups like a good student, and he’s making good grades. Jieqiong, the girl with the dark red lipstick in his biology class, is stunned after the results of their first test come out. (“To be honest, I thought you were kind of an idiot. You didn’t pay attention in class at _all,_ " she tells him over coffee that they grab after class.)

He also has dance practice each weeknight. It’s everything he hoped it would be – a place full of people who loves this art form as much as he does, a place where he’s free to express himself and let go of everything that doesn’t matter and just _be_. It’s perfect. He works as hard as he possibly can and performs the placement routine to perfection. Him and Zhengting and Zeren (who, despite threatening Ziyi with a shovel, is impossibly more kind and generous than he is talented) are sorted into the highest ranks on the team. 

Zhengting and him are together a lot now. Not just for dance practice. Sometimes they talk about Xukun as Ziyi continues to coach Zhengting on how to act normal around him. After their first hangout, Xukun seems to have seen a different side to Zhengting. The side that's endearing in the most confusing way possible. The side that Ziyi’s known for quite a while. Xukun will text Zhengting sometimes, asking to grab dinner, and Zhengting will nearly have a heart attack. Ziyi doesn’t think about it too hard. Zhengting and Xukun are both happy. That’s what matters. He made a mistake, and he's fixing it, and he's not looking back.

But sometimes him and Zhengting talk about other things. One day, as they’re walking back from a late-night ice cream run, Zhengting asks him if he’s ever been in love.

“I don’t know.” Ziyi frowns. “I used to always think I was, but it was never _it_.”

“But how did you know?” Zhengting presses, mouth turned down. “How did you know it wasn’t _it_?”

“How do you know _it_ even exists?”

Zhengting’s mouth drops open. “What, you’re a cynic now? You don’t believe in love?”

“That's not what I'm saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m _saying_ …” Ziyi doesn’t know what he’s saying. “I’m saying that it’s kind of like magic. Some people believe in it and some people don’t. But it makes you believe in better things, things that aren’t normally possible. And sometimes you see something that makes you think _Oh, it has to be real! That wouldn’t be possible if it didn’t exist!_ So you put all this faith into it. But then after a while, you spend all this time examining it and turning it over and taking it apart, and it turns out to be this illusion after all. A trick of the mind.”

Zhengting’s brows are furrowed to a worrying degree. His face might get stuck like that. His melting ice cream has slowly dripped onto his hand, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “I can’t believe you just compared love to _magic_ and somehow made it sound like shit. And you can’t _prove_ that love doesn’t exist. You just have to know in your heart that it's real. If all you do is doubt everything, then you won’t believe in anything.”

Ziyi kicks a rock down the street. “Yeah, well. How could I believe in anything like that when the people I loved the most got taken away from me?” It's the first time Ziyi has ever said anything like that out loud, and it stuns him a bit. The accident isn't something he normally acknowledges, not even in his head.

Zhengting doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s not an excuse.” He shakes his head fervently. “You hear me? That _can’t_ be your excuse. I know you had the shittiest thing in the world happen to you and you still somehow are the kindest bestest selfless-est person in the world, but you can’t just stay closed off and guarded forever. You have to open your heart to people. Let the light in.”

“I’m _not_ closed-off,” says Ziyi, choosing his words carefully. He doesn’t want to fight right now. “I love a lot of people.”

“Sure,” says Zhengting. “Your family and your friends and every dog you see. Which, don’t get me wrong, platonic love is _just_ as important as the romantic kind, and you can’t close the door on either one of them. How can you love others so much, but not believe in the magic of being _in love_ with someone?”

“I’m just being realistic. You can’t invest all of your time and energy into these fairytale notions of love… Life will pass you right by. You have to do the best you can with what you have.” Ziyi doesn’t see what’s so bad about that.

Zhengting tugs him to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “No!” He declares, his voice quivering with emotion. The ice cream is now running in thin streams down his forearm. He points a sticky finger at Ziyi. “You,” he says, “are wrong. You are so, so dead wrong, and you deserve so much more than this trash mindset that you have right now. I don’t know what happened to the Charlotte I saw in you, but we’re going to get her back.” He looks ridiculously offended.

“Zhengting, please,” Ziyi begs while trying not to laugh. “You’re being really loud right now. Come on, let’s keep walking.”

“Your mission,” Zhengting talks over him, “has been to help fix my love life. And I’ve just been taking and taking from you like some selfish dick, and you’ve never complained. Well, no more! From this point forward, I have a mission too. I’m going to make you believe in something better. I’m going to make you believe in love again.”

Ziyi groans. “Zhengting, I do believe in love. I can love someone just fine.”

Zhengting shakes his head firmly. “Nope. You obviously cannot. You think you're fine, but the truth is you're all sad and broken inside. You can't hide it from me. You want to settle for a diluted, paper-thin type of love that’s _convenient_. I’m going to change that. My mission is to make you believe in _real_ love. The kind that’s stupid and loud and overwhelming and beautiful. I’m going to teach you how to fall in love with the world inside someone.” He sounds snotty and unbearably sure of himself, and Ziyi doesn’t know why it makes him smile.

“You really don’t have to do this. Like actually, please don’t. I’m perfectly fine,” Ziyi says, but he's distracted. His eyes unconsciously track a bead of melted ice cream trailing its way down Zhengting’s wrist. It's going to stain his sleeve if he doesn't do anything about it soon.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zhengting huffs. “If you don’t believe in love, what’s the point of living?” Then he realizes belatedly that his ice cream has melted into a liquid mess. “Oh,” he says distractedly, and starts licking it off his fingers. His tongue is pink and wet. The moon is high in the sky, partially covered by a cloud, and it lights up a strip of his cheek.

 _If you want something, you have to reach for it_. Ziyi doesn’t know why it pops into his head.

“Zhengting,” Ziyi says. He must have eaten his ice cream too fast. He feels cold, all of a sudden. “I know you have good intentions. But sometimes in life you have to settle. You can’t get everything you want.”

“Yeah,” Zhengting says. “Sometimes. But not on this.” He says it unexpectedly softly. The moon comes out from behind the cloud in full force, and for a second, Zhengting looks like he’s glowing. Ziyi can't look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways i'm emo now


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the slow burn gets...slower? 
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/ziyiglows)

Ziyi pulls his denim jacket on tighter as he steps out of the natural sciences building. It’s starting to get cold now, and the sidewalks have long since been littered with piles of red and orange leaves. When he was a kid, his dad used to rake up the scattered leaves in their backyard and stuff them into a giant trash bag. Ziyi and his brother would clamber on top of it, and his dad would drag them around the yard, making _choo-choo_ noises the whole time. Afterwards, they would climb on their bikes and race down the huge, steep hill on their street. Even though his brother was faster, he would always let Ziyi win. He would pedal furiously, zooming so fast it felt like his wheels were a second away from lifting clear off the pavement and flying.

It was times like those when he ruled the world. His laughter rang clear through the sky and pierced the sun.

He has good memories of this season. Ziyi has always been terrified of change, but he’s arguably been more fascinated by it. You’re always drawn to those things you can’t comprehend, and it’s still hard for him to wrap his mind around how the trees know to shed their leaves at the exact same time each year. How the first snow of the season always cleanses the soul and soothes over all the dark, bruised spots of the world.

And it’s going to snow soon, probably. Everyone always thinks it will hit much later than it does, but then one day you wake up and the entire world is white and untouched again. He should really buy a new coat and gloves. Some sturdy winter boots as well. He should do it this week, when he has some rare free time. Practice has been cancelled for the week, since Chaoze and some other seniors are going off to a big dance competition. As he’s walking up the steps to his dorm, he makes a mental note: _Go on winter shopping trip with Xukun._

He immediately forgets it when he opens the front door and Haohao shoots into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

“What – ” Ziyi huffs out in surprise, arms automatically closing around Haohao (frantically repeating “Save me, save me!” over and over again) as he stumbles backwards into the doorframe.

Zhengting skids into the living room, panting heavily. He immediately straightens up when he sees Ziyi. “Oh, hi!” His hair is a mess and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes are darting around guiltily. “Wow, you look _great_ today. Love the jacket.” He clears his throat. “Have you met Haohao?”

Haohao’s pleas become more frenzied as he tries to propel himself as far away from Zhengting as possible.

“Um,” Ziyi says. Why does he never know what the fuck is going on. “I have... He’s my roommate. This is our dorm, Zhengting.”

Zhengting laughs awkwardly. “Well yeah, duh. I knew that when I came here.” He pauses, and his eyes take on a truly terrifying gleam. “What I _didn’t_ know is that you and Kun were hiding the most _adorable_ person in the entire world from me!”

“He won’t stop pinching my _cheeks_ ,” Haohao wails into Ziyi’s jacket. “Make him _stop_.”

“I can’t help it!” Zhengting pouts. “You’re so goddamn cute. You’re like a magnet.”

Haohao stares at Ziyi with big, terrified eyes. “He’s been chasing me around for five minutes. I think I’m going to die tonight,” he whispers loudly. “He’s actually going to kill me.”

“Zhengting wouldn’t do that.” It sounds unconvincing, even to Ziyi’s own ears.

Zhengting’s mouth spreads into a creepy, shark-like smile. “ _Exactly_. I wouldn’t do that.” He takes advantage of Ziyi’s loose grip and pulls Haohao onto the couch. Haohao groans and lets his head fall back onto Zhengting’s chest miserably. “Do you know where Kun is? I thought he’d be here so I stopped by. We were supposed to get dinner sometime this week.”

Ziyi knows exactly where Xukun is - on a date with Xiaolan in his British Literature class. She’s been coming over recently to study with him, and they always end up sharing a blanket on the couch late at night as they puzzle through the reading. “No,” he says instead. “Not sure.”

Haohao eyes Ziyi suspiciously while Zhengting squishes his face into increasingly creative expressions. “Isn’t he on a - ”

“Don’t think so,” Ziyi interrupts. “You probably just missed him.”

Zhengting sighs dreamily. “Kun leads such a sexily mysterious life. I can’t even be upset that he’s not here though, because I’ve just met the cutest person in the entire world.” He lets out a truly awful cackle and gives Haohao a furious noogie.

“Can’t you control him or something?” Haohao pleads furiously at Ziyi, voice muffled from Zhengting’s armpit.

Ha. As if Ziyi has ever had any influence over what Zhengting does. “Ah,” he hedges hesitantly. “Zhengting... If you haven’t eaten yet, do you want to grab something?” If there’s one thing that never fails to entice Zhengting, it’s the promise of free food.

“Ohhhh!” Zhengting’s eyes widen. _Bingo_. “Yes! You’re buying! Let me get my coat.”

He bounces up from the couch and into the kitchen. Haohao takes this opportunity to scramble into his room and lock the door. Poor kid. That’s Ziyi’s good deed for the day.

“Alright,” Zhengting cheerfully calls at the closed door as he zips up his ridiculously large down jacket. “See you next time, cutie!”

Ziyi thinks he hears a whimper in response.

They step out into the chilly air, and Zhengting launches into a story about how his asshole TA won’t regrade his essay. The story immediately devolves into ten different tangents, and Zhengting is windmilling his arms as he really gets into it. Ziyi’s nodding along, trying to keep everything straight in his head (turns out the TA has a cousin who’s in their dance practice who accidentally took Zeren’s gym bag home), when he sees Jieqiong walking up towards them.

“Ziyi!” She smiles, all delighted. She has on a pair of oversized glasses and a large scarf, and she’s trying to balance a stack of books in her arms. “Hi!”

“Hey, Jieqiong,” Ziyi smiles back. The breeze is picking up, and it makes her hair flutter gently across her face. “Do you need some help carrying those?”

She shrugs it off. “No, no! My dorm is literally two minutes away. I was just thinking about you, though. You owe me something since I scored higher than you on the last quiz, remember? Let’s get dinner this week!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, ducking his head to hide his pleased expression. “Okay. I’ll text you. Just don’t pick something too expensive. My wallet can’t take it.”

She laughs, bright and clear. “Sounds like a deal. I can’t wait. I have to run, but I’ll see you around!” And then she’s off, her sweet perfume hanging in the air behind her.

Zhengting manages to stay quiet for about two seconds before he explodes. “Oh my God.” And now his eyes are bugging out _again_. “You didn’t tell me you had a _girl_.”

 _Why._ Ziyi can feel the headache coming on. “She’s not - I don’t _have_ her or anything. She’s just in my class.” And maybe they've been studying together twice a week, but there's no way in hell Zhengting is finding that out.

“This is perfect,” Zhengting stubbornly talks over him, flapping his arms like an injured bird. “This is just perfect. She’s gorgeous and classy and smart and a _dancer_ , holy shit, I’ve seen Jieqiong on the girl’s team and she’s really fucking good. Oh my God, this is your _soulmate_. Ziyi. This is God’s sign. Remember how we were talking about true love? Here she is!”

Ziyi should have left Zhengting with Haohao. “Zhengting, we study together for biology. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her or – ”

“You lucky, lucky bastard. I mean, I think even _I_ almost fell in love with her just now. With her perfect skin and bone structure and _oh my God_ you guys are going to have the most gorgeous kids _ever_. I can already see them in my mind’s eye.” Zhengting sighs dreamily. “Their first word will be ‘hey’ and their second word will be ‘bro’.”

“Sometimes it’s like nothing I say registers with you at all.”

“Shut up,” says Zhengting dismissively. “I understand everything perfectly. Much more than you do, anyways. But what else is new. Oh my God. There’s so much preparation to do. We have to get you ready for love. Prep your heart and all.”

“What are you even talking about.” Ziyi is vaguely horrified. “Please don’t do this. Let’s talk about anything else instead.” He racks his brain for other topics of conversation and comes up short. “Let’s talk about how things are going with Xukun,” he says, a bit desperately.

Zhengting flaps his hand dismissively. “It’s great. Kun and I are more than great, actually. He’s still painfully perfect. I have no idea what you’ve been telling him, but he’s texting me more often now so I basically have an aneurysm three times a day. My life is a fairytale.”

 _I haven’t been telling him anything_ , Ziyi thinks. To be honest, their Operation: Woo Cai Xukn plan has kind of fallen by the wayside. The first day they hung out, they spent hours at Ruibin’s waffle place deep-diving into Xukun’s schedule and habits. How he always stops and buys coffee right before class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. How he walks with Bu Fan to basketball practice, but comes back alone. Ziyi was supposed to ease Zhengting into Xukun’s schedule, to plan chance encounters where he already knew Xukun would be. Then, slowly, Xukun could get used to Zhengting’s presence.

He kind of forgot about that after the basketball team’s party. He was too busy freaking out about The Incident. But it looks like Ziyi didn’t have to do much organizing after all. They seem to be hitting it off just fine on their own.

Which is a good thing. Obviously. They’re both happier for it, and... It’s a good thing.

Ziyi’s jerked out of his thoughts when he realizes that, at some point, they’ve turned around on their path. The familiar entrance to his building is back in front of them.

“Wait,” he says, interrupting Zhengting’s chattering. “Why are we back here? I thought we were getting dinner.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Do you ever listen to anything I say? I just told you - we’re going to bike to somewhere further away. Somewhere _romantic_ where you’re going to take Jieqiong. I’ll help you run it through - it’ll be like a practice date.”

This is probably the absolute worst idea Zhengting could have come up with. “Wait - no. Let’s do something else. Anything else. I’ll treat you to hot pot. Or we can get waffles and you can talk to Zeren for hours – I won’t even get mad.”

There’s a stubborn set to Zhengting’s jaw that’s making Ziyi’s heart sink.

“I’ll meet the rest of your kids right now.” Ziyi’s grasping for straws at this point. “I’ll buy them food.”

“You were going to do that anyways. You can’t avoid them for much longer,” says Zhengting. “Come on, you asshole, you’re not getting out of this.” He unlocks his bike from the rack and angles it towards Ziyi. “I’m going to run you over if you don’t come with me.” He grips at the handlebars and mimes revving it.

“You’re terrible,” Ziyi says. He fails to inject any heat into it. This is probably the most awful way he could think of to spend his time - on a practice date with Zhengting, who’s in love with Xukun, to prepare Ziyi for a girlfriend that he doesn’t have. He considers running back up to his dorm and locking the door, but there’s a glint in Zhengting’s eyes that suggests he won’t actually hesitate to chase Ziyi down and run him over with his janky bicycle.

Ziyi swallows hard and gets on his bike.

“Yes!” Zhengting fist-pumps, startling a flock of birds out from a nearby tree. “You’re going to love this. I’m a dating guru.”

“Like you’ve ever been on a date,” Ziyi grumbles. He flexes his grip on the well-worn handlebars.

Zhengting smirks at him. “You’d be surprised,” he drawls out, his tone suddenly strangely suggestive. Before Ziyi can ask him what the fuck that even _means_ , he cackles and pedals maniacally away. “Eat my dust!” He calls out like he’s ten years old.

Ziyi stares at Zhengting zig-zagging unpredictably across the bike path. Zhengting’s just fucking with him. _There’s no way…._ He shakes his head sharply and jumps into motion, starting to pedal when he realizes Zhengting has gained a considerable amount of ground on him. “God, Zhengting, slow _down_. You’re going to wipe out.”

“It’s a bit far!” Zhengting tosses his head back and yells, and his bike wobbles precariously. He’s really speeding now, his legs pumping furiously. “We have to make good time!”

 _Far? Where the fuck are they going?_ Ziyi pedals harder and finally catches up behind Zhengting, narrowly avoiding a collision with a campus tour guide and a group of prospective freshmen. “Sorry!” He calls back to them, out of breath. “Shit, sorry!” Sweat is beading on his forehead. “Zhengting, what the fuck. This isn’t spin class, can you slow down?”

Zhengting just laughs as his hair blows wildly. He even _picks up_ his speed, the asshole. Ziyi can’t do anything but grit his teeth and bike harder.

The wind is streaming through Ziyi’s hair, biting at his nose and ears. It stings at his eyes, and he’s suddenly acutely aware that the sun will be going down soon. The temperature’s going to drop even more. He should have brought a scarf.

As they speed out of campus and onto a street, the discomfort starts to fade away. His cheeks flush with exertion, and he slowly begins to thaw. The wind feels less like a slap to the face and more a wake-up call. It’s exhilarating. He hasn’t biked like this since he was a tiny kid, going fast just for the hell of it. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to fly. He’s forgotten how incredibly fast the world comes up at you when you go this speed. The shops and apartments lining the streets zip by him like afterthoughts, blurring into a montage of overwhelming color. His legs keep pumping faster and faster.

Zhengting starts leading them through alleys and side-streets that Ziyi’s never been down before. Now, they seem to be in more of a older residential area. It almost looks forgotten. Like time passed it right by. The buildings sag with age, leaning onto each other. The roads are lined with potholes that they gleefully avoid. They zoom towards a small boy with grubby hands playing with his dog.

“Hiiiiii!” Zhengting shouts as they pass him, and he throws both arms in the air to wave in huge, exaggerated arcs. No handlebars.

The boy waves furiously back, and the tiny dog barks excitedly in a frantic blur of motion. “Hi, ge!” He says, all squeaky and overexcited. His eyes are bugging out of his head and his face is pale under the dirt streaks, and he suddenly looks painfully familiar. He looks nothing at all like Zhengting, except for how he almost _does_ , and for a second Ziyi believes that if he sticks his tongue out, it will be violently blue.

“Who is he?” Ziyi asks, as he bikes up next to Zhengting. There’s no traffic on the road at this hour. They’re free to pedal side by side.

“Dunno!” Zhengting laughs. “But he was so cute, wasn’t he?”

Ziyi has no idea where they are anymore. They’re speeding into an open field now. The grass is overgrown and the gravel looks loose, and the setting sun is making everything glow.

Zhengting’s arms are still airplaned out at his sides, like he’s in mid-flight. “C’mon Ziyi, try this! No hands.”

“You’re crazy!” Ziyi shouts, but despite himself, his grip on the handlebars loosens. The wind is whipping his hair in his eyes and he furiously blinks away the sting.

“You’ll be fine!” Zhengting shouts back. “It’s all about the balance!” He obnoxiously shoves a peace sign in Ziyi’s face, then _finally_ puts both hands on the handlebars again. “Your turn!”

It’s a stupid idea. Sure, the path they’re on is straight for now, but they’re going way too fast to take any chances. He could wipe out in a second.

 _It’s a stupid idea,_ Ziyi repeats to himself, but for some reason, he still slowly lets go of the handlebars. His bike immediately lurches to the side, and he instantly death-grips back on tight for dear life. “I almost died!” he chokes out, heart racing in his throat. The words are nearly swallowed by the wind.

“Did not!” Zhengting fires back. “Stop being overdramatic and just balance!”

Ziyi’s hands seem to let go on their own accord. He certainly doesn’t mean for it to happen. It feels like they’re being controlled by someone else as he loosens his grip. He wouldn’t be surprised if Zhengting is somehow controlling him through telekinesis. His bike wobbles again, and his fingers twitch, but he doesn’t grab onto the handlebars.

He doesn’t fall. The bike straightens out.

 _You are such an idiot_ , Ziyi thinks, before taking a deep breath. He slowly raises his arms out, and the sunlight streams brilliantly through his fingers.

He’s flying.

Zhengting whoops, and the sound carries through the air, clean and clear. “Fucking balance! What did I tell you?” He puts his arms out again too, and they’re speeding through the field, side by side. If Ziyi reached out a bit farther, their fingers would probably brush. His head feels light and dizzy, like when he does too many rotations of a windmill and has to catch his breath for a few minutes.

His bike wobbles again, and his teeth are definitely chattering from the cold. He still doesn’t fall. Right now, Ziyi feels like he can eat the world raw, and he screams that into the open field.

“That’s fucking right!” declares Zhengting, pumping a fist up. He’s gliding effortlessly, no wobbling or anything. His path is a perfect straight line. “You hear that, world? Ziyi and I are going to raw dick you!”

Ziyi has to grab onto the handlebars then, because the force of the statement almost knocks him over. “Zhengting!” He says in between wheezes of laughter. “You moron, that’s not what I said at all!” At least, he doesn’t think it was. It’s hard to remember when the world is dissolving by him like this.

Zhengting just laughs and laughs, and he keeps laughing even as they roll out of the field and into a parking lot. It’s dimly lit, and they come to a slow stop in front of a bike rack.

“I have absolutely no idea where we are,” says Ziyi hoarsely. His heart is still pounding in his chest. Now that they’ve stopped, he feels a throbbing ache starting to build in his legs. They’ve biked pretty far out from campus. “If you murder me here, I’ll haunt you for the rest of my life.”

Zhengting snorts. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it the day we met. You were such a tiny, defenseless kid.”

“You literally came up to my shoulders.”

“I don’t recall,” Zhengting sniffs. “I was the strongest, coolest fifth-grader ever.”

Ziyi squints at him. “Did you hit your head? You were so pale you looked sickly.”

“I _was_ sick,” Zhengting sighs dramatically. “ _Love_ sick.”

“I changed my mind,” Ziyi decides and locks up his bike. “Please actually stab me now.”

“Aww, Ziyi,” Zhengting coos and pokes his cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll have you all _lurve_ -sick too in no time. Once you bring Jieqiong here, you’ll both fall head over heels for each other.”

“Um,” says Ziyi. “Where, in a parking lot?”

Zhengting gives him the longest, most exaggerated eye roll in the world. “Sometimes I worry about you. _No_ , you idiot. Come on.” He grabs Ziyi’s hand and drags him past the bike rack and around the port-a-pottys to a gigantic ticket booth.

“Ta-da!” Zhengting says, then frowns when Ziyi doesn’t respond. He brings his free hand up to flick Ziyi’s forehead. “Hey. Pay attention to me.”

Ziyi startles and takes his eyes off their linked hands. Then he looks up and sees a towering Ferris wheel in the distance, framed by big top circus tents, and his heart drops.

Zhengting, on the other hand, is vibrating in excitement. “Isn’t this _great_? No one ever wants to come here with me because they have shit to do on campus, but how cool is it that there’s an amusement park within biking distance?”

“Oh my God,” Ziyi says faintly. Carnival music drifts over to them from inside the park. A roller coaster barrels through a giant loop while the kids onboard scream shrilly. The whole scene is bathed in glaring bright lights. It’s ostentatious and showy and _loud_ and everything that Ziyi generally dislikes. “This is your perfect date venue?” He asks weakly.

“Uh-huh! Everything’s here! Food, rides, stuffed animals… You can’t just take the love of your life to any old shitty restaurant! You get the whole experience at an amusement park!”

“She’s not the love of my - ” Ziyi starts, but he gets cut off again.

“This would be my absolute perfect date,” Zhengting says firmly while staring at the entrance. The sun hasn’t gone down yet, but somehow he already has stars in his eyes. What the fuck. “You know, I’ve always wanted someone to take me here.” The stars in his eyes start swimming, and Ziyi feels his heart soften.

Fine. He’ll do this stupid practice-date-whatever. He’ll take Zhengting to the amusement park.

He clears his throat. “Zhu Zhengting,” he says gravely, and Zhengting immediately stiffens like he’s about to be scolded. _Cute_ , Ziyi can’t help but think. “You are, without a doubt, the strangest person I know. Ever since we were kids, I could never figure you out.” Then he starts speaking faster, mainly because Zhengting’s beginning to scowl dangerously at him. “Even though you basically threatened me into coming here, I’m kind of glad. Somehow, you always push me to be more than I was before.” He takes a deep breath. “I know I’m not the person that you dream will take you here. But I still want to ask you...” He pauses for a second to savor Zhengting’s reddening face and bites back a grin. “Will you go on a practice date with me? Will you let me take you to this amusement park?”

Zhengting’s blushing furiously now, but he still ponders the question for a second. “Only if you win me a big prize,” he says, eyes fixed firmly down as he kicks a clod of dirt to the side.

“Deal,” agrees Ziyi. There’s a weird fluttering in his stomach. Probably because he hasn’t eaten yet. He ignores it. “Now it’s your turn to try and convince me that amusement parks aren’t an absolutely hellhole.”

Zhengting’s mouth drops open. “Oh,” he says, affronted. “You’re really in for it now.”

He doesn’t stop talking for the better part of ten minutes as they pay for their tickets and start walking around the park. He talks about how Ziyi should take Jieqiong on _this_ ride, buy her _this_ flavor of cotton candy, and eat at _this_ bench which is conveniently positioned in front of _this_ photobooth. He’s happily chattering on about why the Ferris wheel is the sexiest ride to ever exist when they cross a roller coaster, and his eyes light up.

Ziyi eyes the Coaster of Death with horror (and oh God, that’s its actual name and he’s going to die in an amusement park in the middle of nowhere). It’s about five hundred feet tall. The black paint job is flaking off. It rattles ominously as a coaster train full of screaming children hurtle past them.

“Oh my God,” Zhengting breathes out reverently. “Oh my God oh my God it’s _beautiful_! We have to go on it.”

No fucking way. “Maybe I can just wait for you down here,” Ziyi hedges.

“You’re coming with me.”

“I’ll buy you some stuff while you’re up there. Hot dogs. Coke. Life insurance.”

“Are you kidding me?” Zhengting huffs. “Is that what you’re going to do with Jieqiong? Just wait for her while she goes on rides all by herself and gets swept up by another handsome stranger? No. This is your practice date, and you’re going to do everything exactly right.”

“I will throw up on you,” warns Ziyi. He _hates_ these types of rides. Absolutely despises them.

“Hot,” says Zhengting casually. “Bathe me in your fluids.”

Ziyi sputters, and Zhengting takes advantage of the opportunity to drag him to the ride, where he shoves the tickets into the staff member’s face before Ziyi can stop them. The poor guy gingerly watches Zhengting frog-march Ziyi into the coaster car. Ziyi considers trying to break free, but, as if Zhengting can read his mind, he digs his nails in deeper to Ziyi’s arm. “ _Asshole_ ”, Ziyi hisses to Zhengting, who just smiles back at him sweetly.

As the staff member is buckling them in, he takes note of Ziyi’s tightly drawn face and white-knuckled grip on the seat belts. “You good to go on this, man?” He asks cautiously.

“Absolutely not,” Ziyi says.

“He’s fine,” Zhengting says loudly at the same time.

“Um,” the worker says hesitantly after a brief pause. “Okay. Please keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times.” He pats Ziyi briefly on the shoulder and ambles over to the control center where he’s going to push whatever magic button that will set Ziyi’s heart plummeting into his stomach.

“You have to remember to put your hands up,” Zhengting says cheerfully, although Ziyi can barely hear him over the pounding of his heartbeat. “Just like with the bikes, remember? Let go.”

The roller coaster car lurches backward jerkily before slowly inching forward. “Jieqiong would never do this to me,” Ziyi whispers furiously. “She’d _never_ ask me to risk my life like this.” The car starts slowly creaking up the first hill.

Zhengting laughs. He sounds amused, and Ziyi decides that he’s a demon. No human would show this much glee in the face of someone else’s pure suffering. “Maybe not, but you’re on a practice-date with me, not her. Suck it up.”

Ziyi would respond, but if he opens his mouth he might actually start screaming uncontrollably. His palms are sweating. Agonizingly slowly, they reach the top of the hill and hang there, suspended on the peak, for a second. “I hate you,” Ziyi manages to croak out, before the cart goes rocketing towards the ground at the speed of light.

Zhengting shrieks delightedly the whole way down, nearly busting Ziyi’s eardrums. It’s a fitting soundtrack for his plummet to death. The world is turned upside down and inside out, and it feels nothing like flying and everything like being tossed around in the inside of a washing machine. Zhengting’s tugging on his arm, trying to get him to raise his hands in the air, but Ziyi will be damned if he moves one fucking inch. He might fly apart. They hurtle through the course on an endless, horrible ride, and the creaking tracks are terrifying up close. However, soon he realizes he can’t see the tracks anymore – can’t see anything anymore, actually – and that’s a hundred times even more terrifying. For a second he thinks he’s blacked out or possibly died, but then he realizes he’s just squeezing his eyes shut.

“BEST DATE EVER!” Zhengting screams in his ear as they rush through another loop.

“Ow,” winces Ziyi’s eardrum.

“Hahahahahahahaha,” says Ziyi’s stomach. “You’re going to feel this later.”

Ziyi’s pretty sure he’s bitten through his lip at this point. He’s probably gouged cuts into his palms as well, given how tightly he’s holding onto the plastic seat belt. His face feels like it’s been stung by a thousand bees.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” hollers Zhengting as the tracks twist them upside down, and that’s all Ziyi remembers before his mind decides it can’t process anything anymore and shuts down.

-

He slowly comes back into awareness as they slowly approach the loading area. His muscles are stiff from holding rigid tension for so long, and he relaxes them inch by inch as the cart slows to a stop.

“That was,” declares Zhengting, “so much fun.” He stretches out his arms and pokes Ziyi’s cheek. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“Am I okay.” Ziyi repeats blankly, before the staff member comes over to unbuckle them.

He takes one look at Ziyi and points down the steps. “Trash can’s over there.”

“That was _so_ much fun!” Zhengting gushes. “How long have you been working here? Do you get free rides? Who operates this when you go on it? Has a cart ever gotten stuck while it’s upside down?”

Ziyi wordlessly clambers out of the cart. Solid ground. Solid ground is wonderful and he’ll never take it for granted again. His legs feel like jelly, and he stumbles embarrassingly before he finds his balance. He barely makes it to the bench before he collapses on it, breathing heavily on his back. He closes his eyes, but the world’s still spinning.

A minute later, Zhengting comes over and kneels next to him. “Did you know you don’t get free rides even if you work here? That’s kind of sad, huh?”

Ziyi groans. His stomach still can’t decide whether it wants to empty itself or not.

“Come on, Ziyi,” wheedles Zhengting. “Stop being lazy. We were _just_ sitting down, you can’t be tired yet.”

“I stared death in the face,” says Ziyi. “I’m allowed some recovery time.” He tries to flex his stiff fingers.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Get _up_. You’re not allowed to act like this when you take Jieqiong here.”

“I won’t,” agrees Ziyi. “Because I’m never coming here ever again.”

Zhengting huffs. “You won’t get any cotton candy if you don’t get up.” Ziyi opens his mouth to tell Zhengting _exactly_ where he can shove that cotton candy stick, when Zhengting suddenly says, “You’re kind of cute when you’re being all dramatic, you know that?”

He puts his hand in Ziyi’s hair. It’s unexpected and it feels _so_ good that Ziyi has to stop himself from automatically shoving his entire head into Zhengting’s lap. His scalp is his weak spot, and Xukun always knows to play with his hair when he’s feeling stressed or awful. Zhengting’s long fingers begin to massage his pressure points, and he nearly moans.

“See,” Zhengting says smugly. “Don’t you feel better now?”

He does, a little bit. His head is clearing now, and he doesn’t see double anymore when he blinks. “Ugh,” Ziyi says anyways, selfishly hoping Zhengting will keep massaging the nausea away.

Zhengting hums and continues. “I never would have thought,” he says. “B-O-O-G-I-E Wang Ziyi can’t handle roller coasters.”

“I _told_ you,” grumbles Ziyi. “I hate these things.”

“I know,” says Zhengting, voice unexpectedly soft. “But I love them.” He giggles a little. “I really, _really_ , love them. So you went on it.” His fingers creep to Ziyi’s temple and it feels so good that Ziyi thinks he probably _has_ died. Zhengting’s never done this to him before. Taken care of him like this. It’s weird. Ziyi’s unsettled by how much he likes it. “That’s lesson number one. This is how you love someone.”

Ziyi swallows. _I know how to love someone_ , he wants to say. _You don’t need to do this._ “Are all of your lessons going to incapacitate me like this?” He asks instead.

Zhengting grins, and he’s back to the obnoxious weirdo that forced Ziyi onto the roller coaster. “That’s love, bitch. Jieqiong won’t know what hit her.”

Right. Jieqiong.

-

After the nausea finally passes, they end up walking around the park looking for something to eat. Zhengting is starving, and he won’t stop whining about it every single second. When they finally find a concessions stand, the line snakes around multiple booths, and they wait for twenty minutes while stamping their feet to keep warm. Zhengting’s nose is red from the cold, and Ziyi can’t help teasing him about it.

When they reach the front of the line, both of their stomachs are rumbling. “Two hot dogs,” Ziyi says. “Actually, make that three. And a plate of nachos. And two large hot chocolates.” He pulls out his wallet.

Zhengting tugs at his sleeve. “And funnel cake,” he adds, eyes huge as he stares at all the food behind the counter.

“And funnel cake,” agrees Ziyi, before handing over his credit card.

They carry their feast over to a table and start digging in. Ziyi is absolutely ravenous. He probably burned a thousand calories from tensing muscles he didn’t even know he had on that roller coaster.

“See? Isn’t this super romantic?” Zhengting asks as he takes a large bite out of his hot dog. A dollop of mustard plops onto the table.

“No,” says Ziyi, licking queso off his fingers.

Zhengting scowls. “Shut up. Anyone would kill to go on a date like this.” He takes another aggressive bite and chomps down resolutely. There’s a spot of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

Ziyi traces a mindless pattern into his queso with the chip. “First of all, we’re not ten years old. Second of all, I nearly threw up an hour ago. Third of all, these food prices are absolutely criminal. No one should have to pay $8 for a hot dog, toppings not included.”

“Ah, but all of those small inconveniences pale in the face of true love.” The ketchup blot moves up and down with Zhengting’s mouth.

“It’s not – ” Ziyi sighs and gives up. There’s no point in trying to argue. “You have something, right here.” He gestures at Zhengting’s lip.

“Where?” Zhengting licks a circle around his mouth. “Did I get it?”

“No. It’s to the side.” Ziyi motions to his left.

Zhengting sticks his tongue out to the wrong side. The ketchup remains there, taunting Ziyi.

“Here. Just, sit still.” Without thinking, Ziyi leans over the table and thumbs off the blot of ketchup. _Ha,_ he thinks triumphantly. _Gotcha._ Then Zhengting breathes out a bit shakily, and Ziyi feels it on his fingers. They tingle. He feels a sudden flush rise to his face, and he hurriedly wipes the ketchup on Zhengting’s hot dog bun. “There.”

Zhengting snickers, and the moment is broken. “What a gentleman,” he says, and starts to dig into the funnel cake with fervor. “My mom used to always buy me these when I was a kid.”

“That’s probably why you were so hyper.”

“Probably,” Zhengting agrees easily, lazily licking the sugar off of his fork. Ziyi doesn’t understand why his tongue always has to be out of his mouth. “They used to take me to parks like this a lot. I could never get enough of the rides. My dad would stand in line with me over and over again.”

“I bet you were a right monster about it,” grins Ziyi. He can imagine it all too easily. “You probably pitched a fit and everything until he would let you go again.”

“Obviously,” says Zhengting. “Except one time Kun came with us, and he wouldn’t go on _any_ of the rides because he’s scared of heights. That was the only day I was well-behaved. I think we just rode the merry-go-rounds all day long.” There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips as he absentmindedly pokes at the funnel cake with his fork.

Before, Zhengting would have whined on and on about Xukun. Waxed poetic to Ziyi about his eyebrows and fingernails, of all things. Turned pale as his eyes bugged out and his arms flailed. Rolled Kun’s name around in his mouth like it was candy.

But it’s not like that anymore. Now whenever Zhengting talks about Xukun, it’s with an easy familiarity. Fondness. Tenderness. It throws Ziyi off. He doesn’t know what this means, doesn’t know what kind of relationship the two of them have now. He’s terrified to ask and doesn’t even know how he would begin to word it. Anyways, it’s none of his business. Recently, he keeps having to remind himself of that when it comes to Zhengting.

Ziyi clears his throat. “Are you done? Want to keep walking around?”

Zhengting perks up. “Yeah! You still have to win me a stuffed animal.”

The sun’s almost completely set by now, but the neon lights illuminate everything. Ziyi can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed. It’s just so _bright_ and _loud_ that it doesn’t even feel like a real place. It seems like something sprung straight out of a comic book.

They walk past countless families, jittery kids and adoring parents. One young couple walks next to them, a little girl sitting on the father’s shoulders. She squeals in delight as a clown blows up a balloon animal. “Daddy, look!” She says, pointing a chubby finger in its direction. She’s cute, and Ziyi can’t help but smile as her dad bounces her up and down. Kids see so much beauty in everything. Ziyi wonders when that view stops.

He turns to ask Zhengting if he also used to believe that life is a fairytale. If he misses being a kid, wonderfully naïve and trusting and optimistic. Then he sees Zhengting’s awed eyes, huge and wide and shining as they stroll through the park, and he keeps quiet. Maybe Zhengting’s managed to hold onto that worldview. Maybe Zhengting sees the beauty in everything, too.

-

After going through a funhouse mirror maze where they took some truly awful selfies, they stop at a ring toss. Ziyi is absolute shit at it, and Zhengting gives him hell about it until even the staff member can’t hold back her laughter. They move on to the balloon darts, where Zhengting nearly takes Ziyi’s eye out (“You shouldn’t have been standing so close in the first place”). To no one’s surprise, they fail miserably at the shooting gallery and fishing game until they’re almost out of tickets. Apparently, the takeaway from tonight is that they’re humiliatingly horrible at everything. Finally, they spot up to a strength tester game that Zhengting insists Ziyi must try.

“What good are your ridiculous biceps for if you can’t showcase your strength?” Zhengting asks as he drags them both behind a line of small children. Ziyi’s probably got a good eight years on everyone else waiting to play.

“Do you think that I _might_ have a slight edge of everyone else who’s playing this?” Ziyi asks.

Zhengting ignores him.

The tiny kid in front of them swings with the hammer and misses the mark, pounding it into the dirt. The staff member applauds politely and hands him a rubber duck anyways.

Ziyi’s up now. Zhengting grabs both of his shoulders and forces him to look into his eyes. “This is your last chance. I’m trusting you with our final tickets. Win me something now, or this date is officially a failure.”

“But, you know, as long as we’re having fun,” gripes Ziyi while shaking off his shoulders. The staff member eyes him judgmentally before handing him the hammer. It’s about a foot long and is made of hollow plastic. It’s covered with flame patterns and the word ‘STRONGMAN’ emblazoned on it.

“Go easy,” warns the staff member. “It’s for kids. The last thing we need is for you to break it.”

“Good luck,” Zhengting says gravely and salutes him. “Godspeed.”

Ziyi takes a deep, exaggerated breath and raises the hammer high above his head. Zhengting flashes him a thumbs up. Ziyi brings the hammer down in one smooth motion, and the strength-meter fills to the very top instantly. It starts beeping frantically as “HIGH SCORE!” flashes across the screen.

“No fair!” whines the kid behind them. “No one can beat that now!” His mom shushes him, but not before giving Ziyi a dirty look. Ziyi tries to muster up his best apologetic expression, but he can’t quite stop smiling.

“Congratulations,” the staff member says dryly.

“Do we get a prize?” Zhengting bounces up on his toes. “We have to win something, right?”

The staff member gestures towards a shelf full of giant stuffed animals. “You can pick from these, I guess.”

Ziyi carefully looks through the mass of plushies. “Any one I want?” The staff member nods.

He turns to Zhengting. “Close your eyes,” he says. Zhengting instantly snaps them shut and holds out his hands, making grabby motions. Ziyi reaches up to grab the fluffiest, pinkest one. As if he could choose anything else for Zhengting. “Here,” he says, stuffing it into Zhengting’s arms.

Zhengting opens his eyes and squeals. “A little pig!!!! My beautiful tiny baby!” He pulls Ziyi into a tight hug, crushing the fluffy pig in between them. “You won me my favorite animal in the world! I love it!”

Ziyi’s hands automatically settle on Zhengting’s hips as he huffs out a laugh, secretly pleased. “Am I a perfect date or what?”

“As cute as you guys are,” drawls out the staff member. “There’s a line of kids behind you who also want a turn.”

Zhengting flushes and, before Ziyi can even process the word ‘cute’, he blurts out, “We’re not dating. I’m pining after his brother and he’s taking me on a practice date for his future girlfriend.”

 _Oh my God._ Ziyi immediately grabs Zhengting’s arm and drags him away. His face is hot. Zhengting doesn’t know when to shut his _mouth_ and it always bites him in the ass when he’s flustered. “Ever heard of oversharing?”

Zhengting scowls up at him. “I was caught _off guard_ , okay? It’s not like I was lying.” He squeezes the stuffed pig harder to his chest, and some of Ziyi’s irritation and embarrassment trickles away. There’s a pause where they both stand there, unsure of what to say.

Zhengting looks down. “I’m sorry,” he says to Ziyi’s feet, and he sounds so hurt and embarrassed that Ziyi’s heart goes out to him.

Ziyi sighs. “It’s okay,” he says, feeling like an asshole. “Don’t worry about it.” He wishes that they could go back to a minute ago, when Zhengting was delighted and hugging him. “What else do you want to do before we head out?”

Zhengting perks up.

They end up at the giant Ferris wheel that Zhengting’s been eyeing this whole time. By this time in the evening, the line is almost nonexistent. Just a few minutes later, they’re sliding into a cart. The warmth of the sun is gone, and plastic bench is hard and cold. Next to him, Zhengting shivers in his giant down jacket.

“Cold?” Ziyi asks.

Zhengting shakes his head stubbornly. “We have to ride this before we leave.”

Ziyi rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t going to make you get off.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his pair of leather gloves, the ones that he saved up his birthday money for two years ago. They’re well-worn and soft, the stitching coming loose in some places.

“Here,” he says as he grabs Zhengting’s hand as the Ferris wheel begins to move. “ _Shit_ ,” he hisses as he touches the freezing fingers. Zhengting immediately latches his fingers onto Ziyi’s wrist, trying to draw in some warmth. “Your hands are goddamn blocks of ice. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” He wraps both of his hands around Zhengting’s and carefully tries to rub some heat back into them. After Zhengting’s fingers feel marginally less like popsicles, Ziyi gently tugs the gloves onto Zhengting’s hands. They’re a little too big, and Ziyi attempts to pull them up for a few seconds before he gives up. Zhengting will just have to deal with having an inch of extra length in the fingers. “Ha,” he teases, a smirk on his lips as he pinches the excess fabric. “You’re still so tiny. Short fingers.”

Zhengting doesn’t respond. His gaze is stuck on his gloved hands. Their Ferris wheel cart keeps rising and rising. From up here, Ziyi can see the field they biked through.

“Hey,” Ziyi says softly, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay? Did you catch frostbite?” He’s only half-joking.

Zhengting’s still staring at his hands. His tongue flicks out and licks his cracked lips. “These are your gloves,” he finally says slowly.

“Yeah…” Ziyi repeats back just as slowly. Did the cold freeze out some part of Zhengting’s brain? Is his slow response time a symptom of early-onset hypothermia? “They are mine,” he agrees.

“Okay,” Zhengting says, and his voice cracks.

“What’s going on?” Ziyi can feel his concern growing. Trust Zhengting to have some sort of mental breakdown while they’re hanging a hundred feet in the air.

“Nothing,” Zhengting says shakily. He clears his throat and repeats it again more firmly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just realized something, that’s all.” Before Ziyi can ask him about it, he shakes his head sharply, hair whipping out around him. “But I’m forgetting about it for now so I can freak out about it later. Privately. Under my covers. Let’s just enjoy the ride.” Zhengting crosses his arms.

“Okay...” Ziyi says, confused, but he lets it go. No point trying to get something out of Zhengting when he doesn’t want to talk about it. He leans back in his seat and looks at the night sky. The stars are so bright here.

“Look!” Zhengting says suddenly, pointing to their right. “A shooting star!”

Ziyi squints into the distance. “That’s an airplane.”

Zhengting deflates. “Whatever,” he says petulantly and sticks his tongue out at Ziyi. “I still want to make a wish.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight. His nose is scrunched up in concentration, and Ziyi has the sudden urge to reach over and smooth out the wrinkles.

“What are you wishing for?” He asks, already anticipating Zhengting’s answer.

As expected, Zhengting scowls. “You can’t just _ask_ someone that, Wang Ziyi. It won’t come true.”

“If I guess it,” pushes Ziyi, “will you tell me?” It’s definitely about Xukun. He thinks back to Zhengting biting into a slice of watermelon, telling Ziyi “ _I’m going to marry him one day._ ”

“No,” scoffs Zhengting. He pets his stuffed animal’s head absentmindedly. “You would never guess it anyways.”

“You wished to pass your government class,” Ziyi says, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Zhengting’s been bitching about that class for the whole semester.

“No.”

“You wished to become as good of a dancer as me.” He can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Fuck you. No.” Zhengting whacks him on the head with the pig. “You need to make a wish too.”

Ziyi can barely make out the airplane in the distance. He’s never been on a plane before. He wonders where it’s going.

He closes his eyes. _I don’t want this to end_ , he wishes. _I know I’ve always been scared of change, but I’ve never been scared shitless like this before. Things are really good right now. Between everyone. I don’t want it to get fucked up._

“Bet I know what you wished for,” says Zhengting.

“What?”

“That you’re not living in a reality where Justin managed to beat you up,” Zhengting giggles furiously before Ziyi thinks _that’s it_ , and reaches over to grab his wrist.

“I’m sorry! I’m _sorry_!” Zhengting is already yelping out between bouts of laughter as he tries to twist out of Ziyi’s grasp.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Ziyi’s struggling to keep a straight face.

“No,” Zhengting manages to earnestly get out before he dissolves into another fit of breathless laughter.

Ziyi rolls his eyes and delivers two light taps smacks to Zhengting’s wrist. “There you go,” he says. Zhengting immediately whimpers and starts rubbing his wrist, even though Ziyi _knows_ he barely touched him. Zhengting’s obnoxiously load whines are _not_ tugging on his heartstrings. They’re _not_.

He feels like his thoughts are heading in a dangerous direction, so he focuses on the movement of the Ferris wheel. “This is nice,” he says plainly. “I like it up here.”

Zhengting drop his wrist, the injury forgotten. “Right? You can see everything from up here. The whole entire world. It’s so big.”

 _Mine is so small_ , Ziyi doesn’t say. _I think I’m scared of expanding it._

Zhengting lets his arms dangle out over the edge. “Don’t you feel like we could just reach out and scrape the stars?”

“Yeah,” Ziyi says. He thinks he wants to say more, but he doesn’t know how.

His nose is going to start running from the cold soon. He sits on his fingers in an attempt to warm them up a bit. “I kind of don’t want to leave,” he confesses as their cart makes another loop.

“Me too. I absolutely _love_ Ferris wheels,” says Zhengting. He drums out a messy beat on the seat with his fingers. “Even though you just go in circles, it feels like you’ve gone on a whole journey. When you step off, you’re always somewhere different than where you started.”

“Yeah,” Ziyi agrees. “Almost like we’re on that plane. Imagine if we got off the Ferris wheel and we ended up in a new country.”

“Hopefully somewhere sunny. The beach!” Zhengting chirps as he burrows deeper into his jacket.

“I haven’t been to the beach in years.” Ziyi exhales and watches the vapor hang in the air. “We used to go as a family each summer. When I was little.” Ziyi furrows his brow. He hasn’t thought of this kind of stuff in a long time. It used to be too painful. Now, he doesn’t know what it makes him feel.

“That sounds fun,” says Zhengting quietly. At this point, they’re both sniffling from the cold.

“Yeah. It was.” Ziyi picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “I used to write my name in the sand every time because I wanted it to remember me. I didn’t want to be forgotten, you know? When we came back the next year and it wasn’t there, I cried.” Ziyi pauses. It feels strange talking about this, stuff that he hasn’t told anyone before. Not even Xukun. It hurts dully, but he almost wants to chase the feeling. Like pressing on a fading bruise. “Every time after that, whenever we came to the beach, my dad would run out before I could see and write my name in the sand, so it’d be there when I went looking for it. I was so happy. So I starting writing short letters to the sea. Every morning, there’d be a message back to me on the sand... I eventually figured it out after a few summers, but I never told my dad about it. We just continued writing to each other like that.”

Zhengting is looking at him in a way that he doesn’t understand. It’s like he’s trying to stare straight into Ziyi’s mind. Into the visceral memories – the foam of the waves and the salt on his tongue. If he tries, he can almost feel the sun on his skin.

“I don’t know why I just thought of that,” Ziyi mutters. “I’m surprised I still remember.”

“Of course you do,” says Zhengting. His voice sounds rough. “Of course you remember.”

“I thought I forgot it all.” His tongue feels thick and clumsy.

The Ferris wheel slowly comes to a stop, and they climb out. A gust of wind hits them, and it makes them both shiver. But despite it all, Zhengting was right. It feels like they’re in a different place than when they got on.

-

The bike ride back is absolutely brutal. The wind has picked up and it’s freezing and there are no lights outside. They pedal slowly and carefully, in stark contrast to how they acted on the way to the park. Zhengting tries to use his phone’s flashlight to light up the path, but pockets it after he drops it and Ziyi nearly runs it over. They spend a good part of the bike ride bickering about whose fault it would be if the phone actually cracked.

“This was a good practice date,” says Zhengting as they roll into campus. “Even if you sucked ass at all the games.”

“Watch it. I set the high score on the strongman one.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Jieqiong will be real impressed when she sees how it was literally built for eight-year-olds.”

“ _You_ were the one who made me do it so you could get a prize!”

“Okay, fine,” Zhengting laughs and starts to take off the gloves. “Thank you for these, too. Really.”

“It’s no problem,” Ziyi lies through his teeth as they chatter. “Your fingers probably would have froze right off without them.”

“Good thing you were there,” Zhengting says through sniffles. He rubs his cold hands together. “Thank you again for doing it with me. I know it’s not your favorite place in the world, and I know you hate roller coasters and the food was really expensive, and it was cold but - ”

“But this is how you love someone,” Ziyi cuts him off. “Right? Lesson number one.”

Zhengting blinks dumbly. “Yes,” he finally says. “Lesson number one.” He flashes Ziyi a thumbs up and gets back on his bike. “I think I’m going to head back to my dorm now.”

“It’s late,” Ziyi frowns. “You can stay over if you want.”

“Aw,” says Zhengting. “What a considerate practice boyfriend. It’s okay. I’ll see you later.” He gives Ziyi a hasty two-fingered salute and bikes off.

Ziyi locks up his bike and stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. He’s full-on shivering now, but he’s not ready to head inside just yet. His mood had soured almost as soon as Zhengting left. “How to love someone,” he mutters to himself. “As if Zhengting knows more than me about that.”

Zhengting’s just been pining after Xukun for his whole life. Even with no reciprocation or sign of interest from Xukun. How can that be love? How can Zhengting still be hung up on it? How can Xukun not _say anything_?

Ziyi’s mouth twists, and he tries to stop thinking about it. Things are good right now, and he knows it. He’s just thinking too much again, like he always does. He needs to get out of his head.

Ziyi’s phone rings. He feels steadier when he sees the caller ID. “Bro,” he greets.

“Bro,” says Xukun. “I see you through the window. Why are you brooding outside?”

Ziyi kind of wants to laugh. He doesn’t even know how to begin to explain. “I think I’m going to go to the dance studio,” he says instead.

Xukun’s quiet for a beat. “It’s late,” he says. “You have an eight am tomorrow.”

Ziyi is fucking freezing. He lets out a shaky breath. “I just have to get out of my own head. I can’t sleep right now.”

There’s a pause. The words hang in the air.

“Okay,” says Xukun. “Hang on. I’ll be down in a second.”

A minute later, Xukun is pushing the building door open and stepping out into the cold. “ _Shit_ ,” he hisses, pulling his coat tighter around him. “It’s fucking freezing.” He hands Ziyi a scarf and a beanie. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” Ziyi says as he wraps the scarf on tightly. They fall into step beside each other. “How was your date?”

“It was great.” Xukun brightens up instantly “Xiaolan’s so genuine. Smarter than me by a ton, too. She can instantly make sense of all the Shakespearian gibberish that we have to read.”

Ziyi nudges Xukun with his shoulder. “That’s good. Someone who can finally put you in her place.”

“Hey,” Xukun smiles. “I really like her. We’re going to go out again on the weekend.”

“How _much_ do you like her?” Ziyi presses, and he doesn’t know why.

Xukun shrugs. “Don’t know yet. We’re just figuring things out as they go.” He claps Ziyi’s shoulder as a particularly brutal gust of wind hits them. “You sure you don’t want to go home, bro?”

“No,” says Ziyi. He actually kind of does, now that the exhaustion’s kicking in, but he steels his resolve and continues pushing on. He doesn’t want to crawl into bed and allow his mind to overthink again. “You don’t have to come, you know. Like you said, it’s late.”

“S’fine,” says Xukun. “I brought the camera.” He pats his coat pocket. “Maybe we could film something.” He continues to chatter on about everything and nothing, about how they should really invest in a tripod and how basketball practice is really amping up, and Ziyi lets the words wash over him gratefully as they make their way to the practice studio.

When they get inside and the warm air hits them, they both breathe out a sigh of relief. “I don’t want to go outside again,” declares Xukun. “We’ll get frostbite.”

“Let’s just crash here. Maybe the custodians will take pity on us and let us sleep in.” Ziyi shakes out his frozen limbs and starts stretching.

Xukun sprawls out on the floor lazily. “So you hung out with Zhengzheng, right?”

“Yeah. He came by the apartment.”

Xukun snorts. “I know. I think Haohao’s fully traumatized now. He kept touching his cheeks like he was in some sort of fever dream. He flinched every time I said Zhengzheng’s name.”

“Poor kid,” Ziyi winces. “Zhengting was rubbing his face so much I thought it would catch on fire. I had to bribe Zhengting with food so he’d leave him alone.”

Xukun starts setting up the camera. “So where’d you guys go?”

“An amusement park,” grumbles Ziyi. “I almost threw up on a rollercoaster.”

“No fucking way. I thought Zhengzheng hated amusement parks. We went once as kids, and all he did was ride the merry-go-round.” Xukun laughs. “Can’t believe you guys went there.”

“He said it was his dream date spot.” Ziyi doesn’t know why he’s irritated all of a sudden. “Where do you guys go, when you hang out?”

Xukun shrugs. “Mostly we grab dinner. He always tries to scam me into paying, the twerp,” he says fondly as he fiddles with the camera’s zoom. “It’s weird. The three of us haven’t hung out together yet. You two are kind of close now, huh?”

“I mean…” Ziyi doesn’t know what to say.

“You definitely are. Most of the time when we hang out, we’re talking about you.”

That can’t be right. What could Zhengting even have to say about him? “When he came to our place, he was looking for _you_ ,” Ziyi says carefully.

Xukun laughs. “Aww. Zhengzheng must have forgotten. I told him I’d be out.”

“Out…like, on a _date_?”

“Yeah. He even gave me suggestions on what we should do. Granted, most of them involved skywriting, but.... The sentiment was there.”

Ziyi doesn’t know what to do with this information. Zhengting knows Xukun’s seeing someone else? He gave Xukun date advice?

Xukun squints at him. “Are you _sure_ you want to dance right now? You look dead on your feet.”

He is. He feels feverish and his limbs are heavy. But if he lets himself continue to mull this stuff over in his mind, he might go insane. “Just thirty minutes,” Ziyi decides. “Then we can call it a night.”

Xukun yawns. “You’re buying me coffee tomorrow.” He angles the camera at Ziyi and checks the lighting. “Okay. Start whenever you’re ready.”

-

They wake up the next morning in a confused pile on the floor. Ziyi is tangled up in his overcoat and Xukun is sprawled on his legs. The camera’s out of battery.

“God,” Xukun groans as he rolls out the stiffness in his neck. “You make a really shitty pillow.”

Ziyi’s eyes feel dry and swollen. “Next time we’ll bring sleeping bags.”

There’s a text from Zhengting blinking on Ziyi’s phone.

_think I got might hav caught a fever from last night:((((_

Ziyi’s stomach drops. Zhengting was sick a lot as a kid, probably because he was so thin and pale and stick-like. It seemed like he caught a new strain of the flu every other month. He’d heard Zhengting’s mom complain plenty of times about how awful he was when he was sick, how he refused to take medicine and cried for hours. She had to stockpile coloring books just to keep him from going insane on bedrest.

But now they’re alone. No parents to take care of them and feed them when they’re feeling bad.

Xukun checks his phone. “Fuck. Class starts in twenty minutes.” He jumps to his feet and starts pulling on his jacket. Ziyi lays motionless on the floor, weighing his options. On one hand, class. Jieqiong. On the other hand…

“Bro. Aren’t you going?”

Screw it. “My class was cancelled,” Ziyi lies.

Xukun looks unimpressed. “No it’s not. You haven’t even checked your email.” He squats down next to Ziyi. “What’s going on with you?”

Ziyi doesn’t even know.

“I just feel like for a while now we’ve been…off. I mean, most of the time everything’s great. But then sometimes…” Xukun chews on his lower lip. “I used to always know what you meant. Or what you were feeling. You know? Now, sometimes I just feel like I don’t anymore.”

Ziyi feels an overwhelming amount of guilt, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but nod. He wouldn’t even know how to explain it if he asks Xukun _Do you think I know how to love someone_?

“Okay,” Xukun sighs. “I have to run to class or Xiaolan will kick my ass.” He flicks Ziyi’s nose. “Don’t brood the whole day. Go out and get some sunlight. You look washed out.”

“Fuck off,” Ziyi grins.

Xukun flips him the bird as he jogs out of the studio.

Ziyi flops back on his stomach. He should really sleep some more. Then go work out. Organize his class notes.

Instead, ten minutes later, he’s at the convenience store loading up on cans of soup and crackers.

-

Xingjie finally opens the door after Ziyi knocks for about five minutes. He squints blearily, and Ziyi swallows down the urge to say _Oh thank God, he’s not alone in here._ “Don’t you have class?”

“Don’t you?” Ziyi retorts as he hauls his shopping bags through the door.

Xingjie’s eyes pop open. “Whoa. What the fuck.”

Ziyi runs a weary hand through his hair. He’s starting to feel slightly unhinged. Zhengting hasn’t answered any of his texts. “Zhengting’s sick, Jie-ge. Did you know that? _Even_ after I gave him my gloves yesterday. I didn’t know what flavor of soup he liked so I got one of each. And a heating pad. And an ice pack, in case the heating pad is too much. And a few coloring books, except, _fuck_ , I forgot to get markers. Do you guys have any?”

Xingjie stares at him until Ziyi begins to feel self-conscious. “I mean, if you don’t, I can always stop by the store again.”

Xingjie takes a deep breath. “God. If you can hear me, please strike me dead right now and reincarnate me as someone who doesn’t have to watch this shitshow with my own two eyes.” He stalks into his room and slams the door shut.

“Um,” says Ziyi to no one. “Rough day, I guess.” He carefully picks his way around the mess that is their dorm, stubbing his toe badly on a dumbbell hidden beneath a pile of jackets. “ _Shit,”_ Ziyi hisses as he hops his way into the kitchen. He manages to clear about a square foot of counterspace, which is no easy feat, and sets the soup cans on there. He squints at the label. Can you microwave the aluminum cans? What exactly does it mean to microwave something on “HIGH”?

This is why Haohao cooks.

He also has no idea what flavor Zhengting wants. He ends up pouring a few cans together into a giant bowl and shoving it into the microwave. Chicken noodle is a classic, of course. French onion sounds fancy enough that Zhengting would like it. And then clam chowder. He’s heard that seafood is good for you.

He restlessly drums his fingers against the countertop as he waits for the soup to finish heating. When it finally beeps, he nearly burns himself taking it out. Okay, so maybe he filled the bowl a bit _too_ close to the top, but Zhengting might be starving. They biked off a lot of calories yesterday.

He piles another plate full of crackers and carefully makes his way to Zhengting’s room, praying that he won’t trip over anything and send the food flying. It’s a close call, and he nearly loses his balance on a pile of papers, but he makes it to Zhengting’s room with everything intact. _Score_.

Ziyi takes a deep breath and slowly pushes the door open. It’s dark inside – the blinds are drawn – and it takes his eyes a second to make out Zhengting’s form curled up on the bed. He tiptoes in and sets the food down on Zhengting’s desk.

It’s cleaner in here, but not by much. At least you can see the floor. Ziyi pulls up a chair to the side of Zhengting’s bed, and his heart squeezes when he sees Zhengting tightly clutching the pig stuffed animal to his chest. He’s sniffling in his sleep.

He can leave now. Zhengting’s getting some well-needed rest and Ziyi shouldn’t disturb him. He made him soup and now he can go. Xingjie’s here, and he’ll take care of Zhengting, even though he couldn’t possibly know that Zhengting never colors with crayons because the smell makes his head hurt.

Actually, Ziyi should probably stay. Just to make sure that everything goes okay. He _knows_ Zhengting after all, know how fussy he gets, and he doesn’t want to put anyone else through that. He’s probably the best person to take care of him. From an objective standpoint.

Then Zhengting lets out a soft moan, and all of Ziyi’s thoughts promptly fly out the window. He stares at Zhengting’s face, suddenly hyperaware that he’s in his room. They’re probably inches apart. If he reaches out, he could trace the curve of Zhengting’s eyebrow. So much else about Zhengting has changed, but it’s the same shape that he remembers from all those years ago.

Zhengting’s face is flushed, and he’s taking in these shallow breaths. Ziyi’s worried that he might be having trouble breathing properly, with all the congestion and whatnot. Zhengting’s brow furrows as he shifts on the sheets, and Ziyi unthinkingly smooths over the skin with his thumb.

Zhengting’s reaction to being touched is instant. He shoves his cheek into Ziyi’s palm, almost nuzzling it, and lets out another drawn-out moan. Ziyi freezes. His heart is unbearably loud in the silent, stuffy room. He starts to pull his hand away, but Zhengting _whines_ softly, and he freezes in his tracks. He doesn’t want to wake Zhengting up.

It’s so dark, he realizes. It’s so dark in here and he can barely see and no one will know if he just…leaves his hand there. If he moves a _little_ closer, just to make sure Zhengting is still breathing properly. He’s just leaning down to closely inspect Zhengting’s face when he feels fingers gently wrap around his wrist, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Mmm,” Zhengting sighs as he traces a circle around Ziyi’s wrist. Ziyi is frozen. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

Zhengting slowly opens his eyes. They lock onto Ziyi, half-lidded, unfocused and clouded with fever. “Ziyi,” Zhengting says, except it can’t be his name because he’s never heard his name sound like _that_ before. All drawn-out and heady and lazy, like he’s savoring it.

“Um,” says Ziyi. Then, because he’s an absolute dumbass, he blurts out, “I made you soup.”

Zhengting lets out another whine that is really fucking with Ziyi’s head. “Even in my _dreams_ you’re still the most considerate person in the world.” Ziyi’s ears must be malfunctioning. It sounds like Zhengting is speaking from underwater. He tugs at Ziyi’s hand, pulling him closer. Ziyi follows powerlessly. It’s like _he’s_ the one who’s dreaming, like he has no control at all as he feels himself drawn to Zhengting like the most powerful magnet in the world, like –

_What the fuck._

Ziyi flinches back violently, knocking the chair over in the process, and jolting them both out of the moment. “Zhengting,” he says, voice tight. “You’re not dreaming. Oh my god. I really did make you soup.”

Zhengting suddenly sits up ramrod straight, eyes bugging out and fingers scrabbling for purchase against the bedsheets. His hair is sticking up in a million different directions. All traces of sleep are gone as he blinks dumbly at Ziyi, squeezing the pig tightly in his arms. “You’re here. Oh my god. Why are you here.”

Ziyi doesn’t know what to say. Now that he thinks about it, he’s being an absolute Class-A creep. _A text from Zhengting saying that he’s sick isn’t an invitation for you to come over, dumbass!_ What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck is he _doing_. “I…” he says weakly. “I just thought I’d come over and check on you.”

“You just _thought_ ,” Zhengting moans and shoves a pillow into his face. He groans loudly into it and then throws it to the other end of the bed. His face is flaming red as he shoves a finger at Ziyi. “I’m delirious right now. I’m sick. I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Fever dreams are _totally_ a thing. You can’t hold anything against me.” He starts ranting on about how he's a victim in this whole situation, and Ziyi is beginning to panic.

Ziyi racks his brain for anything to say that will make Zhengting calm down. He’s _sick_ and Ziyi is somehow aggravating him. “I brought coloring books!” Ziyi blurts out, holding his hands out in front of him in an attempt to placate Zhengting. “Lots of them. You know, so you won’t get too bored.”

Zhengting suddenly stops his feverish rambling, staring at Ziyi with some sort of strange expression on his face. “You brought coloring books,” he repeats slowly. “Because you thought I’d get bored.” Ziyi nods. Zhengting’s mouth twitches. “Ziyi, how old do you think I am? We have a TV. I have my laptop.”

 _Oh my God,_ he is such a fucking idiot. “I forgot to bring markers though,” Ziyi mumbles, looking at his hands, wishing he could just disappear. He should have gone to class.

“Hey,” Zhengting crawls over and sits on the edge of the bed. “Ziyi.” He pokes at Ziyi’s side and lets out a congested sniffle that sounds so pathetic Ziyi has to look up.

“Thank you,” says Zhengting, so sincerely that it catches Ziyi off-guard. He catches Ziyi’s gaze and quirks his lips up. “Really.” His eyes are so fucking big and they’ve always been these huge fucking pools of _energy_ and _hope_ and _light_ and Ziyi feels so dizzy all of a sudden. Maybe he’s sick too.

He feels like he might get whiplash as Zhengting abruptly leans back onto his bed, throwing his arms out in the air. “So I’m fucking starving,” he declares. “Where’s this soup you made?”

Ziyi snaps out of his thoughts. His mind is still a whirling mess, but what else is new at this point? He carefully brings the bowl of soup over to Zhengting.

“Um,” says Zhengting. “This can probably feed me for the next three days.”

“Just shut up and eat it,” says Ziyi sheepishly as he stirs it. It looks depressingly gray, and he’s starting to doubt whether he actually heated everything up right. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so… it’s kind of a medley of different influences.”

“Oooh,” grins Zhengting. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

Ziyi hastily shoves a spoonful of soup into Zhengting’s mouth none too gently. Zhengting gags, eyes flying open, before he slowly swallows it. It actually looks a bit painful. His throat might be sore.

“What do you think?” asks Ziyi. He won’t be upset if it’s bad. He _won’t_.

“It’s…really good,” Zhengting says cautiously, licking his lips. “Proper sick meal, and all that. Yum.”

Ziyi suddenly feels light. At least this is one thing he hasn’t fucked up today. “Really?” he asks, probably sounding like a ten-year-old kid. “I can make it tomorrow for you too.”

Zhengting’s eyes widen. “No, no!” He says hurriedly. “I honestly have like, no appetite. I’m sure this will last me ‘til tomorrow too.” He chuckles weakly. He probably has no energy right now.

Ziyi frowns. “You need to eat more to get better,” he says. “But okay. I got some crackers for you to eat too.”

Zhengting brightens. “Crackers! I love crackers!”

Ziyi puts the soup back on the table. “You can have some soup later then,” he says as he grabs the crackers, missing how Zhengting sighs in relief.

-

Zhengting falls asleep again two hours later, head on Ziyi’s shoulders as his fingers loosely grip a marker. Ziyi carefully moves out from under Zhengting, freezing every time Zhengting moans in his sleep. He caps all the markers and shoves the coloring books to the nightstand, before quietly heading out into the living room.

Justin and Xingjie are on the couch playing Overwatch on mute. They’re using the heating pad Ziyi bought as a blanket. Ziyi joins them on the couch, exhausted. “You know,” Xingjie says conversationally as he blasts a robot into pieces. “I really didn’t need to spend my morning hearing Zhengting moan about how good your _creamy soup_ tastes.”

“Don’t you have class?” Justin adds, thumbs furiously jabbing at the controller.

“Why does everyone know my fucking schedule?” Ziyi grumbles, feeling his face heat up.

“Aww,” coos Justin. “Mister I’m-Too-Cool-For-School is blushing.”

“I’m going to throttle you one day,” says Ziyi.

“That’s my job,” says Xingjie.

Ziyi grabs a slice of cold pizza from an open box on the table. It’s stale.

“You’re not making any soup for yourself?” Xingjie smirks.

“That’s for Zhengting.”

“I can’t believe he fucking ate that,” Justin cackles. “I saw the empty cans. Why would you ever think it’s a good idea to mix those flavors? Were you _trying_ to make him throw up?”

“He liked it,” Ziyi says defensively. “He obviously has better taste than you two.”

Justin and Xingjie look at each other and burst into laughter. It’s the big, booming kind that has Justin wiping at his eyes. “Oh my God,” says Justin. “Yeah, obviously not, given how stupid you both are.”

“See what I mean?” Xingjie asks between hiccups of laughter.

Ziyi narrows his eyes. “What the fuck are you two on about.”

“All I’m saying,” says Justin, “is that we don’t just give the shovel talk to anyone.”

Ziyi feels a horrible, churning feeling rising up in his stomach. There’s some sort of misunderstanding. “You know…you know he’s in love with Xukun, right? You’ve known that since you two were in Korea.”

Justin raises an eyebrow. “Yet for some reason we didn’t give _him_ a shovel talk.”

Ziyi feels like a thousand pounds are pressing into his chest, pinning him down on this couch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

Xingjie pauses the game. “Look,” he says, turning to face Ziyi. “You’re smarter than this. Here are the facts. You’re over here, like, every other day. And when you’re not, you two are hanging out somewhere else. He never shuts up about you. It’s like he needs to say your name once every hour or he’ll combust.”

“It’s not like that.” Ziyi feels on edge, like he needs to get out of here before he explodes. “We’re not…like that. We’re only friends because of Xukun.” And that’s the truth. That’s always been the fucking awful truth that taunts Ziyi endlessly. Him and Zhengting don’t fit. They don’t make any sense together, and they _never_ would have talked even once if Xukun wasn’t there.

Xingjie looks at him like he’s from another planet. “You can’t actually believe that.”

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Justin says slowly, “but Zhengting was really messed up when he came to Korea. All he did was dance and eat and sleep. I figured he had gone through a bad breakup or something. Then he met this guy… They were both in the top of their dance class and I guess they started practicing together or something. He said he liked it because it reminded him of when he used to practice with some guy back home. Anyways, a few weeks later, Eunki asked him out and they started dating.”

Ziyi’s mouth is dry. His stomach ties itself into a firm knot.

He never knew… Zhengting had a boyfriend before? Obnoxious, loud, starry-eyed, crazy, in-love-with-Xukun-since-the-beginning-of-time Zhengting had a _boyfriend_? Who allowed this? 

“Oh my god. You look like the world is crumbling right in front of you,” Xingjie says.

“Zhengting was definitely more invested,” Justin says. “Since Zhengting, well, you know how he is. Falls way too quickly, trusts too easily. His heart is too big, you know? He was really hesitant at first, but I pushed him to do it. I wanted him to get over Xukun. It wasn’t healthy, pining over someone like that. And then they were together, and Zhengting was so, so happy. He couldn’t believe someone actually liked him. It had never happened to him before. I think he actually thought he’d be alone forever.” His mouth twists, and for a second, he looks almost dangerous. “And this Eunki asshole takes advantage of that and fucks up the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“He fucked another dude.” Xingjie’s expression is stormy. “While they were together.”

Ziyi feels numb with shock. _He didn’t tell me any of this_ , is all that runs through his mind. _Why didn’t Zhengting tell me any of this?_

“I don’t want to go into details,” says Justin. “It’s a shitty story. But me and some other guys took care of him and gave Eunki what he deserved. And the whole time, Zhengting is all, ‘I knew it, I’m not good enough, how could I ever expect anything else’. And then he refocused all of his energy into Xukun again. It was a really familiar obsession for him to grab onto.”

Ziyi doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to be here. He should have stayed in Zhengting’s room, where it was nice and dark and far away from anything else.

“He’s holding onto this fantasy he had as a kid because it’s safe,” says Xingjie. “And he knows he won’t get hurt because he’s lying to himself.” He stares at Ziyi intently. “Do you get it now?”

“I don’t…” Ziyi trails off helplessly. "What about Operation: Woo Cai Xukun?"

“How are you both so fucking oblivious!” Justin explodes. “Hello! The operation is dead! It's been dead ever since you walked into our dorm. You're the protagonist of this romcom now! Open your eyes! This is your realization moment! Your run-and-kiss-him-in-the-rain moment! You two are every Ed Sheeran song ever, now _please_ fucking do something about it. I’m tired of watching him not realize that he’s head over heels for you.”

“I have to go,” Ziyi says weakly. Nothing makes sense. They’re wrong. They have to be wrong. They can’t be right because then that would mean… That would mean….

The world spins. He stands up on shaky legs. “I have to go,” he says again.

Xingjie looks at him worriedly. “Are you sure, bro? You look a little peaky. Maybe you could crash at ours for a few hours.”

“Make sure Zhengting eats again when he wakes up,” Ziyi says breathlessly, and then he’s out the door.

-

“Jieqiong!” He yells, sprinting through the building. _Bingo._ He _knew_ she had class here. Heads swivel to look at him, but for once in his life he doesn’t care about attracting unnecessary attention. “Jieqiong, wait!”

She’s staring at him, red lips and wavy hair and so gorgeous she looks unreal. “Hi,” he gasps as he reaches her.

“Are you okay?” She sounds confused, and he doesn’t blame her.

“Give me a second,” he pants. “Sorry, I just sprinted here from the dorms across campus.” He must look like a mess, clothes wrinkled and face flushed.

“Just to see me?” She teases, her perfect mouth pulling into a slight smile.

She’s fucking beautiful. Any idiot can see that, and yet… Ziyi feels nothing. He doesn’t want to take her on a date, doesn’t want to bike down unpaved roads and soar above the world in a Ferris wheel with her. What is _wrong_ with him?

“The dinner we talked about yesterday,” he starts, and oh God, he’s babbling. That’s always been _Zhengting’s thing_ , talking too much when you’re nervous, but all of a sudden Ziyi can’t stop himself. “You remember, when we saw each other? It got really fucking cold that night, haha. Um. That’s not a date, right? I mean, I don’t even know what’s going on right now and I think you’re great, I really do, I mean you’re a total knockout, but I have a lot of stuff in my head I need to sort out, and – ”

Jieqiong cuts him off. “Ziyi, hey, hey, slow down.” She squeezes his shoulder. “It’s just you treating me to dinner since I beat you on the quiz.” She laughs. “Also, I don’t think my girlfriend would like it if I went on a date with you.”

The world screeches to a halt. “What.”

Jieqiong stares at him with disbelief. “Wait, are you serious?” She squints at him like he’s being exceptionally slow. “She’s stopped by multiple times when we’re studying. We hold hands. She calls me ‘babe’.”

“I thought that was just something girls did,” Ziyi says faintly.

“She kissed me once. You were there,” Jieqiong says exasperatedly.

“Friends can do that!” Ziyi is probably starting to sound hysterical, but he feels like his entire world is rearranging itself right before his eyes. Friends _can_ kiss. He kissed Zhengting, once, (even though he’s never supposed to think about it again and his brain needs to shut the fuck up right _now_ ) and they both agreed it didn’t mean anything and it was a mistake.

Jieqiong looks like she’s torn between laughing and scolding him. “Besides, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

_A what now?_

She takes note of his frozen expression and blushes. “Oh no, sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I just thought… You’re always texting Zhengting non-stop. And whenever we study, you never shut up about him.”

“I do not,” Ziyi says automatically.

Jieqiong rolls her eyes. “How else would I know that he loves _Sex and the City_ and hates chocolate and cried for days after watching _Bridge to Terabithia_?”

“Everyone cried after watching that movie,” Ziyi says weakly. His mind is still stuck on the word ‘boyfriend’.

“Plus, you guys were going out together when I saw you yesterday!” Jieqiong says. “It’s not my fault for jumping to conclusions!”

Ziyi wonders what she’d do if she knew it was a practice date for her. “Oh my God,” he says weakly. “Oh my God. You thought he was my…” He can’t even get the word ‘boyfriend’ out of his mouth.

Is everyone else experiencing a collective hallucination? Even _if_ Ziyi felt…felt certain _things_ for Zhengting, does no one else understand that Zhengting loves Xukun? That’s his _family,_ that’s his _brother_ , that’s the person who has always been there for him, and Ziyi has no idea when things got this messy.

“I’ll see you later,” he says to a worried-looking Jieqiong, and steps outside. It feels like he’s walking through a dream. Maybe he is. Maybe Zhengting doesn’t even go to school here and this is all some elaborate hallucination he cooked up. It seems far-fetched, but it’s more probable than what’s actually happening right now.

He makes his way home in a daze. It’s early in the afternoon, and Xukun’s scrolling through his phone on the couch when Ziyi walks in.

“Bro,” says Xukun. “Where’d you go? I thought you would have come back here when you were ditching.” Then he takes a closer look at Ziyi. “Are you okay? How do you look even worse than you did last night?”

 Ziyi opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. _I don’t ever want to hurt you_ , he thinks wildly. _But I keep fucking up and I don’t know how to stop from hurting you or him or myself._

“Come here.” Xukun pats the couch and Ziyi wordlessly sits down. “What’s wrong?” He looks so, _so_ concerned, and Ziyi is an idiot for ever thinking that Xukun didn’t love him best of all.

“I don’t know how to tell you,” he says, voice catching at the end.

“Don’t keep pushing me away,” Xukun pleads. He grabs Ziyi’s wrist. “You know you can tell me anything.”

 _Not this_ , Ziyi thinks blankly. _Anything but this._


End file.
